Lines in the Sand
by meglee06
Summary: AU Evangeline "Evan" is a professional beach volleyball player. Due to a broken heart and a serious injury, her life has been turned upside down. Can she learn how to heal, in more ways than one, with her Physical Therapist? Cena/OC with some Gabriel/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hey everyone!**

**This is my first story on this site, and I hope you all enjoy reading it. I've been thinking about this idea for a long time, so hopefully you all find it as interesting as I do. **

**Some things before you get started reading:**

**This is an AU story, so I will not be including the wrestling world. Just some of the people. I've adapted them to this story in a way that suits me.**

**Any reviews are warmly welcomed, just give your opinions kindly. I can take criticism, but I do much better with constructive criticism rather than "I hate your story" kind of comments. Thank you in advance.**

**I've supplied a huge list of volleyball terminology, considering this story will deal a lot with the sport. If you do not know the sport, this is your reference point. If you know the sport like I do, feel free to skip on to the story further down the page started at the line. **

**Please forgive any mistakes. I've done speel check and grammar check and red through it a few times. I think I have caught everything, but there could always be something wrong. I apologize for any faults.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but my main OC (Evangeline) and any OCs I add later on, as well as the idea and plot. Recognizable names, brands, businesses, etc are not mine and are credited to their rightful owners. No profit is gained and no harm is meant by my story.**

Volleyball terminology:

An brief explanation of the game and a coverage of some terms for those of you who are not familiar with the game. The court is divide by a net with either team facing each other and the net. In regular volleyball, a team holds six players and they are divided into two rows, a front and a back where front is closest to the net, and three columns, right, left, and middle from the perspective of each side facing the net. For beach volleyball, teams usually consist of two players each. The teams are allowed three touches on the volleyball before the ball has to go over the net and to the other side while remaining in bounds. The usually touches include a pass, a set, and a hit. If the ball goes out of bounds, whoever touched it last loses the point. If a ball touches the ground within the court, whatever side it is on loses the point. The ball comes into play from a serve, and has to go over the net. The match usually consists of winning 3 out of 5 games, each game going to 25 and must be won by at least 2 points (example: if the score is 24-24, one team must get to 26-24 before being declared a winner.)

-tall, speed (my own terms): These are terms I made up while playing, so I wouldn't expect others to use them. But a tall is the tallest player on the two-man team, or the person who is usually the better hitter. The speed is the opposite. They are the shortest member on the team but also the faster one of the two. They usually are the better setter.

-touch: Any form of touching the ball. If the player makes contact with the ball, even in a panic form, it is called a touch in general terms.

- pass, set, hit: Basic terms for volleyball. A pass is the first thing you learn in volleyball, and you can play a full game with nothing but passing. It is the first touch in traditional volleyball where the player lets the ball hit off of their forearms to get the ball up in the air. A set is the second touch in traditional volleyball where hands are used to push the ball into the air and to a hitter. It is "setting" up the hitter for a hit, hence the term "set". A hit is the third touch in volleyball where the player must get the ball over, jumping up to get above the net and smacking the ball down. It is sometimes called a spike. The ball is hit hard and forced down into the court side of the opponents.

-rally: When two teams keep a ball going back and forth, a term you can also find in tennis.

-dig, up: Terms that refer to a pass.

-shank: A term in volleyball that refers to a ball coming off of a player uncontrollably, whether due to a bad touch or a hard hit ball. A shank usually goes out of bounds and stops the play.

-pass-set: A different form of passing in which you use your hands much like a setter would to pass the ball. Not considered a set because you are not setting up the hitter for a hit.

-block: This is a defensive move. It is when a player jumps up to place their hands in front of an opponent who is hitting, forming a wall in which the ball can hit and fall back into the other court side. It is a huge advantage to have a tall who can block.

-tool: A tool is a term referring to a point gained by a ball hitting off of a block and falling out of bounds. Some players purposely hit into a team's block to force the ball out of bounds and gain a point.

-kill: A term that refers to a good hit or spike that hits the ground without the other team getting a touch.

-attack: A term that refers to a hit.

-joust: When two players go up at the net and try to hit the same ball. Think of a jump serve in volleyball terms.

-push, down ball: Alternative ways to hitting. A push is when a player sets the ball to the other side of the court. They do not set the other team's hitter but rather pushes the ball away from their side to avoid stopping play. Down balls are a type of hit that happens when a hitter puts a big spin on the ball, forcing it down in an arch. This hit can be done while on the ground.

-free ball: A free ball is a last resort. It is when a player passes the ball over the net because the team cannot hit it over. Different things cause a free ball to occur, but it usually happens after a mistake. It is called a free ball because it is like giving the other team an easy ball to set up a play.

-carry, lift: These are penalties. A lift and a carry are similar, where a lift is when a ball is literally lifted up and a carry is where someone basically grabs the ball and throws it or pushes it up or over the net. It is any time the ball rests in someone's hand/s for too long.

-serve, foot fault: A serve starts play. It is when one player goes behind the back line of their side of the court and hits it over the net to the other team. Professional and college teams will usually do a jump serve, where the server hits the ball while they are in midair. A foot fault is a penalty that occurs when the server steps on the back line or into their court too soon while serving.

-floater: A type of serve that literally "floats". A difficult serve to defend, this type of serve makes the ball move back and forth slightly while in the air, almost in a cartoonish way (I say cartoon, but this is a real serve and they are not fun at all to try to pass). There is no spin on these serves and usually confuses the other side due to the movement.

-ace: An ace is a serve that hits the ground of the opponent's side without being touched.

-serving zones: The serving zones refer to the spots on a court. In normal volley ball, there is a rotation of six players on the court at one time, starting at the back right and moving in a counter clock wise direction (This is from the point of view of your side of the court. If you were facing the net and were the server on a six man team, you would be in the back {furthest from the net} right). Server, right back is 1. Going towards the net, right front is 2. Going a spot to the left, middle front is 3. Going a spot to the left, left front is 4. Going back towards the back line, left back is 5. And finally going to the right, middle back is 6. To the right of spot 6 is spot 1, so it is a large oval on the court.

Hopefully, if you were not familiar with the terms of volleyball these will help. I might use other terms later on and I won't use all of these this chapter, but I wrote all I could think of and I will add to these if I remember any. If I confused any of you, feel free to try to do some Google searches to figure it out or ask me questions for clarification. If any volleyball players other than me see a mistake in an explanation, let me know as well (kindly). Anyways, hope you enjoy the story!

Match point, our serve. One more point would give us the victory.

My mind was focused on the other team as my partner, Michelle, went to the back line to await my signal.

My eyes narrowed behind my sunglasses, scrutinizing the competition.

The tall looked nervous, a blonde, lanky girl that was maybe 20 years old. She had the face of a child as the baby fat had never quite disappeared in the area. A splash of red across her cheeks and nose stood out against her normally fair skin, an effect of the sun in the California summer. Her arms hung loosely in front of her as she glanced from me to Michelle at a rapid pace. She wasn't confident in her passes and I could almost taste the dread in the air between us as it oozed from her. She was afraid and with good reason. Michelle has a wicked floater. Her serve is almost untouchable. Almost.

The speed, a shorter girl with cropped brown hair probably about 24 or 25, had gotten a pretty good handle on it in the last few serves. She was reading it well, but not well enough. She was still behind by half a second, waiting until the last possible moment to react to the ball and get it up high enough for the tall to make a set. If she didn't get it, the tall would pass and the speed would set. When the speed got the set, the ball was almost always dead on.

But she was tired. Her shoulders sagged forward, carrying the burden of her exhaustion mixed with the sun beating down. She wiped her brow with the back of her hand, sighing slightly. She would be able to handle it much longer. And she was also nervous. She kept her eyes on her partner, muttering words in hushed tones. Encouragement most likely. She was calming the younger girl down.

The tall didn't have great hands. She handled the ball very clumsily when she set, and it was always too far out. The speed has done everything to make sure it was the tall who hit, allowing the speed herself to set.

If we could make the speed pass the ball and the tall set it, we'd have the upper hand. The tall would more than likely panic in the situation. On the other hand, serving the tall in her nervous state would also benefit us, making her play the game and risk messing up while she is overwhelmed. I had to consider that move as well.

She was scared. She was the least experienced.

She was the target.

There was almost no wind, and the sun is sitting high in the sky, causing no obstacle for either side of the court except when looking up.

The tall was on the left of her court side, right from where I stood. That meant either spot 4 for a short serve or spot 5 for a deep serve. Deep could possibly make her use her hands, so deep was the better choice in my opinion.

Serve the tall a 5.

The decision took no more than 3-5 seconds.

I flashed the number behind my back, holding 2 fingers with my right, 3 with my left, as the official blew the whistle to signal that Michelle could now serve. I counted off in my head the seconds that it took for Michelle to serve. It was always the same amount of time. Being her partner for years, I grew to know the familiar pattern of her serve. Double spin on the ball and jump.

Three.

Two.

One.

Michelle made contact with the ball and it flew into the opposing court. It was a high floater, and the tall was having trouble reading it. She put her hands up to try and pass-set the ball, but it moved slightly to the right of her. She hadn't predicted that and as a result she took a panic touch, throwing a fist as the ball. It shanked off to the left and out of bounds.

Match.

Before I knew it Michelle had tackled me from behind. We laughed hysterically as we sat in the sand, relieved that we had won the game. As we sat, the crowd that had gathered around our court cheered our victory.

"We did it!" Michelle squealed, her face breaking out into a huge smile.

"Yes, we did. Now get off of me you big goof!" I howled, making Michelle cackle even harder. She eventually got off of me and allowed me to stand. We both walked arm in arm towards the net to shake our opponents' hands. They had played hard against us. We just played harder.

"Great game." The speed said as she gripped my hand. Up close I can see she is more exhausted than I originally thought. Her breathing came in sharp breaths but nevertheless she greeted us with a smile. An opponent that was graceful in defeat. A blessing in this day and time.

"Thanks. You too." I replied, slipping my sunglasses us to rest atop my head.

The tall looked on timidly as we interacted. She had already shaken Michelle's hand and was waiting patiently to shake mine. I smiled at her as her partner moved to mine.

"You played a heck of a game." I said as I extended a hand to her.

She accepted the hand shake, tucking the stray hair from her ponytail behind her ear.

"Thank you." Her small smile barely hid her disappointment. She still had a lot to learn, but she was eager and she had plenty on time.

"If you can get your set down, you might be the winners next time. You have loads of potential." I said casually. It was true. Her sets were shaky. And if she perfected them, she'd be a monster on the court. Her hitting was already top quality. She smiled politely at the words as the wheels in her head began to turn, no doubt planning to practice.

I soon found Michelle and left the court, walking though the mob of people to allow the next game to set up. These scrimmage tournaments were always crowded. Even people who did not follow the sport would come to watch these beach volleyball events. In the words of Michelle, "Who wouldn't like to see a group of good looking women in bikinis playing volleyball in the sand?" I'd like to think it was our skill of the game that drew them in like flies, but I know our uniforms do help draw attention.

As we walked away, Michelle eyed me suspiciously. I knew it was coming. She questioned me almost every game.

"What did you do this time, Evan?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." I put on my best shocked face. I was a terrible liar, but innocence usually worked in my favor.

"Evangeline Rose Parker, I know you are hiding something!"

I cringe at the use of my full name. She only uses it to spite me. From birth, the only people I allowed to call me Evangeline and live were my parents.

"I hate it when you do that. I just gave the girl some advice." I mumble, shaking my head at Michelle's stubbornness.

"Oh…well you just looked like you had done something sneaky. Oh well. And was that so hard to tell me?" she teased.

"Brutal."

"Oh you're just a big baby."

I gently shoved her, which turned into her overdramatically flying off to the side as if I had put my whole body weight into one push. I'm strong, but I'm not that strong. Michelle was always a drama queen.

"Evan!"

"Now who is the baby?" I joked, setting off into a sprint through the crowd as she started after me.

I would have gotten away too, if I hadn't been swept into the arms of my fiancé.

"Whoa! Slow down love, where's the fire?" My loving but sometimes oblivious future husband Justin asked as he cradled me in his arms. Well, he tried to anyway. I was kicking around furiously as I tried to escape, making it extremely difficult to hold onto me.

"Justin put me down! I'm running from-"

"Justin Gabriel, you hold her still!" came the cry of my partner, interrupting my explanation.

"Oh no. She is using full names. This can't be good." Justin thought aloud, keeping a tight grip on me. He looked down at me in amusement. "What did you do E?"

"She pushed me!" Michelle shouted, closing in on us.

"I did nothing of the sort! The woman is lying!" I declared as Justin swung me around to avoid the reach of Michelle.

"What are you two, five years old?" he said chuckling, obviously enjoying the banter. Michelle reached around him to get to me, but he managed to keep between us. Barely.

"No!" Michelle and I replied simultaneously, causing us to burst into another fit of laughter and give up the chase.

Justin allowed me to slip out of his arms to where I could stand, though I held my grip on his waist as he placed his arm around my shoulder. I've been on the courts all day and haven't seen much of him. He had work to do anyways. He was in the process of starting his own gym. He's been a professional trainer for years and was now trying to create his own establishment. I was beyond proud, though I did miss having him there to cheer me on at my games.

"How was the match?" Justin asked, smiling down at me with a cocked eyebrow. "You're covered in sand, so I take it went good?" He noticed, looking at how sand clung to my uniform and skin. It happened every game due to the nature of beach volleyball, but the more sand I had on me usually indicated a more interesting game.

"Very good. We won in 4 games. 3 to their 1." Michelle stated proudly, adjusting her ponytail to where the blonde waves sat high on her head and tumbled down to her shoulders.

"We had some good rallies going." I added, letting the smile creep across my face as I looked up at my fiancé.

"I'm sure you did wonderful." He said, kissing me on the forehead lovingly.

"Yuck! Get a room!" Michelle joked, making a vomiting noise when Justin in turn planted a sweet kiss on my lips. "You two are beyond sickening."

"Blame yourself. You introduced us." I reminded her, enjoying the slight roll of her eyes at the thought of the introduction 3 years ago. We had barely been a team, maybe a month into our training, when Michelle had mentioned the tall handsome fellow working at her local gym. She insisted on our meeting for weeks before I finally agreed, at which point she practically dragged me to the gym where Justin was getting his start as a professional trainer. The rest was history.

"And I've regretted it ever since." She teased, walking away mumbling about trying to find something to eat before our next game.

I turned my attention back to Justin. "Are you going to be able to stay for the next game? It's in an hour or so." I questioned, pulling back slightly to look him in the eyes. They were my favorite part of his features, his accent holding a close second. The warm brown color would always brighten my day.

His eyes currently held a look of regret, however, as he sighed heavily. "No, I only have time for a quick lunch. I have to be back at the gym soon to meet the contractor. But I had to stop by to see how my favorite girl was doing." He said as he hugged me tighter around my waist.

I pouted slightly. I really hated that he couldn't stay. He hasn't been able to see me play in a few weeks now. He's attention has been on the gym. And it shouldn't bother me. He is making a future for us. But still, it was hard not to have him there sometimes.

"Well you're still planning on coming over for dinner tonight right?" I asked as I smiled sweetly in a way I knew was hard for him to refuse.

"Of course E." he stated, his eyes glowing with warmth. "But right now, I probably should get going. I've been gone for too long as it is." He sighed, checking his watch.

"Fine, fine. Go on before I get you in trouble." I tease, giving him a push in the right direction. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"Now I see what Michelle was talking about when she mentioned pushing." He joked, shaking his head. I laughed at the comment before pulling him back for a quick kiss.

"I'll see you later tonight."

"Good luck on your game Evan. I love you."

I smiled at the words. He has said them so much, but it never gets old.

"I love you too, Justin."

He grinned one last time before turning to head back to the gym. I watched him silently for a moment, pushing the urge to be disappointed at him leaving to the back of my mind before heading off to find Michelle so we could eat before the next game.

**So that's the first chapter!**

**It starts right off the bat with Volleyball, but I hope you can get a since of the characters or at least a jumping-off point.**

**Remember that this is a John Cena story, so all of you who saw Justin Gabriel and wondered if I had lost my mind rest assured I have a plan and will introduce his character later on.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Alright here is the second chapter to the story! I wanted to get this one up pretty quickly before spring semester starts up on Monday. If I can, I will try to update again soon. **

**Thank you for all the people that reviewed or put my story on alert! For a beginning chapter in the first story I am grateful for feedback. So thanks :)**

**One of the comments mentioned "threw a fist at the ball", so I wanted to clarify that. It's not a set in stone saying, but it is one of the many ways to express a panic touch, or when a player just tries to touch the ball in any way. If that confused anyone, I apologize. **

**This chapter is a little shorter I believe, but I still hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: Again, I don't own anything but the OCs and the idea.**

I've always been an impatient person. I tried my hardest to wait for stuff, but I get fidgety. And then my perfectionist side kicks in.

I reset the dinner table. Twice.

My outfit, consisting of jean shorts and a tank, was constantly adjusted.

I looked out of the window next to the front door just to see if I could see headlights moving up the long driveway of my out of the way home just outside of Huntington Beach, California. I had plenty of neighbors, but my house had a long driveway and sat away from most of the crowd. It reminded me a lot of my childhood home in North Carolina actually. I lived "out in the sticks" as my friends put it. We were away from everyone, where I could see the stars in the night sky instead of the glare of street lights.

I stood by the window for a moment longer before deciding to check on the food. I didn't want my baked ziti to burn. I wasn't much of a cooker, but when I did it was almost always a pasta dish.

I had a few more minutes to go on the food, so I forced myself to sit down at the dining room table. Even then, I couldn't keep still. My leg bounced up and down in anticipation.

Why was I so nervous? Justin had been over so many times that I've lost count. So why did I feel like it was our first date again? Maybe it was because he hasn't been over in a while. A month or so. We've met up a few times for lunch or coffee, but work has kept him away a lot lately. But he said he was coming tonight.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I did not hear the loud beeping of the timer for the oven going off in the next room at first. But reality kicked in when I started to smell the food beginning to burn.

"Crap!"

I jumped up from the table, running to save the food from a charred death. Grabbing the oven mitts and yanking the door of the oven open, I quickly rescued the dish and set it on the stove top. Luckily it was only a little burnt around the edges. Now to just let it cool.

A knock at the door interrupted my time to catch my breath. I smiled widely. Justin had made it just in time to eat. I practically skipped down the hallway to the door.

"You're just in time for dinner." I said as I swung the door open and looked up at my loving fiancé.

Well, I would have looked up at him.

If it was him.

A younger guy in his late teens stood at the door, bewilderment in his expression as he took in my words.

"Sorry," I muttered, slightly embarrassed and caught off guard by the visitor, "I thought you were someone else."

"That's okay ma'am" The boy said with a smile. "Happens all the time."

I noticed he was wearing a uniform for a local delivery company. In his hand was a beautiful bouquet of lavender roses, astilbe and agapanthus, creating a lovely mixture of purple hues.

"Delivery for Ms. Parker." The boy clarified, holding out a clip board for me to sign.

Without a second thought I signed, taking the flowers and thanking the boy before shutting the door behind me. I wondered back through the house towards the kitchen, my ziti still sizzling on the stove. Sitting down at the table, I removed the card from the flowers and opened it to see Justin's handwriting. It only said one word.

_Skype?_

I sighed deeply to myself, feeling my disappointment sinking into my heart. _Not again_. I thought. He couldn't be doing this again.

Forgetting the food I had slaved over and abandoning the table settings I had placed, I grabbed my laptop from my office and went to sit on the couch in the living room. Might as well be comfortable.

It took only seconds for me to sign on, and within minutes the all too familiar ring of Skype filled my ears as I sent him a request to video chat. It took a few rings before Justin answered. I wasn't surprised to see that he was still in his gym.

His face filled my screen and I did my best to smile, but it felt fake. It was fake. I was disappointed.

"Hey love." Justin said quietly, smiling sadly at me. He could tell I was upset. I've never been good at hiding my emotions, especially not from Justin. He could read my mind as if words were tattooed across my forehead.

"Hey there." My voice came out lower than I would have hoped.

"I guess you got the flowers?" he questioned.

I held up the bouquet, giving them a shake for emphasis.

"How did you like them?" He asked halfheartedly. He was stalling.

"They are beautiful." I answered softly. And they were. I just wasn't happy to see them. Not when I was expecting to see him instead.

"Beautiful flowers for my beautiful girl."

"Justin…"

"Look, I know I messed up." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked tired. The warmth in his eyes wasn't quite there. Maybe it was a trick of the webcam, but he looked worn down. "I got stuck here though. You know how it is. The contractor was late after lunch and then the guy who is setting up the plumbing had issues…" He trailed off, gesturing around him. My heart went out to him, knowing he was trying. There's always been a side of me that doesn't want to get mad at anyone, to say everything is okay and never argue my point. That side was begging me to be lenient. To just let it go. And it was working.

"I'm just a little upset you couldn't make it." I managed to say, looking anywhere but Justin's image.

"I know E, and I am sorry. I got your hopes up. I feel terrible."

"No, I don't want you to feel bad." I started, looking back up at the screen. This is where I say it's not his fault. Where I forgive him. It's become routine now. "There will be other dinners."

"I know. I really am sorry Evan." Justin said once more, giving me the sad look he always gave me when he knew he messed up.

I gave a small smile. "It's okay." I caved. It was easier to not pick a fight. I was tired form the tournament. He was tired from work, which he still had not left from yet. Why make things worse?

A small voice in my head was screaming at me to tell him how he should have never made plans with me if he was going to work late. It wanted me to speak up that this hurt, going from excited to deflate. But I have always been the one to back down from a fight with my loved ones. Sports were my outlet for confrontation. My competitiveness took care of that side of me. So now, I could be none-confrontational, easy-going Evan. Like everyone expected me to be.

"What did you cook?" Justin asked, breaking the tension that had built in the situation.

"Baked ziti." I stated proudly, grinning as he groaned.

"Please save me some for later. I'm going to need some of your pasta to get through this week." He moaned, making me laugh.

"I will set aside some for you." I promised.

"What would I do without you?" he teased.

"Probably starve." I joke back, causing him to snort in laughter.

We talked for a few more minutes, mostly about his plans for the gym. He was excited about the paint finally getting on the walls. He was currently working with a graphic designer for the logo, something that would fit Cape Town where he was originally from and the name he had chosen for his gym. His eyes always lit up when he spoke about his plans. He may be struggling with his time management but he was thrilled to be opening a place of his own. It had been a dream of his for a while, and within the year it would be complete. It was dream come true. Wasn't it?

It was a future for us. A fresh start. We haven't set the date for our wedding yet, opting to wait until the gym was opened before making those plans. One thing at a time.

But since I was thinking about it…

"Hey babe, I know we are waiting until after the gym opens up, but when do you think you want to get married?"

Justin shrugged, making a face that gave off uncertainty. "To be honest, I don't know. Haven't focused on it much."

That's understandable. He's been stressed with the gym. It's normal. Right?

"Yeah, I know, but do you have a preference with what time of year? Any favorite season?" I asked, diving right into the topic. I was curious.

"Whatever you want, I will be happy with." Typical guy answer. Never straight forward.

"But I want to know what you think." I pushed a little further.

"Honestly, E, I have no clue what I think. I'm sure you can come up with better ideas than I can." He pointed out.

"But I wanted to plan with you. It's _our_ day, not just mine." I stated.

"After the gym opens, I will plan with you. That's a promise." He says, giving a smile that lets me know he gave in, but had said all he could on the subject.

"Alright." I agreed. At least he was willing to help. And I could wait that long.

He glanced at his watch, before sheepishly smiling. "But I still have to finish some stuff up, so I better get off of here."

I glanced at the time that Skype was keeping on our call. Almost 20 minutes. Not long at all, but if he was busy I didn't want to stress him out more. I guess I would be alright with our short conversation. I'd talk to him tomorrow when he was less busy.

"Alright, but you are coming to the next game right? It's in two days. The tournament gave us a day off tomorrow since we won both matches today." I couldn't keep from sounding hopeful in the question. Today was Tuesday. He had told me earlier this week that Thursday would be a rare day off. With mine and Michelle's next games that day, it was the perfect opportunity for Justin to come cheer up on.

"You bet." He smiled, "I'm looking forward to seeing you play."

My smile widened at the words. Finally he could come to a game or two, depending on if we win the first game that day and continue on.

"But I really need to go now E. I will talk to you tomorrow. I love you."

"I love you too. Be safe." I reminded. I hated him driving too late at night. It was only 8 now, but knowing him, he wouldn't get back to his apartment until much later.

"I will be. Goodnight Beautiful."

"Night."

The call ended and I closed my laptop. Time to eat.

But first, I should take care of these flowers. I strolled into the kitchen and found a glass vase under the sink. Placing the flowers into the container, I filled it with water. I walked back to my bedroom and flipped on the light. I knew exactly where I was going to put it.

Walking over to the dresser, I set the vase down next to the other four vases, all containing flowers Justin had sent me in the past month. They were in good condition since I've been keeping the water levels at a good amount.

I hope the canceling dates and sending flowers thing did not become too much of a pattern, or I was going to need a bigger dresser.

**So that wraps up that chapter. Hope you liked it, and I hope you continue reading. Next chapter should be longer!**

**Reviews and any other type of feedback is always welcome, just be gentle with criticism.**

**Much love, Meg**


	3. Chapter 3

**First I apologize for the delay. School takes a lot of time out of my writing. I will try to have the next one up quicker, since it's going to be a pretty emotion driven one.**

**Let me fix something from previous chapters. Beach volleyball teams win a best 2 out of 3, not 3 out of 5. I was going with the traditional indoor volleyball rules and did not catch the mistake until later. My apologies. From here on out, it is winning 2 out of 3 games to 25 with the final game played to 15 points in "sudden death" if you will. **

**Also, the next one is the introduction of John to the story!**

**Anyways, Read, Review, and Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I only own the plot and my OC. Everything else belongs to their respective parties. No harm meant and no profit gained through the creation of this story.**

As an athlete, you're going to face some challenging games. You won't always win. You won't always come out on top. Some games go further than just a sporting event. Some become a knockdown, drag 'em out fight for every point, every dig, every hit that we could manage to send over the net.

This was one of those games.

I readjusted my ponytail, the brown hair falling into my face from the intensity of the game. I was frustrated. Michelle was frustrated. This game was too close for comfort. We had gone the entire 3 games, with the score being at 13-13. It was my serve, and we needed 2 points to win.

The team we were up against was good and we were making too many mistakes. Missing serves, not following through on hits, drawing penalties with our sets; nothing seemed to be going right.

And to top it all off, Justin hadn't shown up.

My eyes drifted to the empty spot in the seats that I had reserved for him. I couldn't believe he didn't come. After missing dinner, I was sure he would have made it to the game come Hell or high water. But he didn't.

And I was disappointed, frustrated, and slightly angry.

But I couldn't worry about that now. We had a game to win. If we didn't, our tournament play would be over, and we would have to wait another two weeks for the next tournament.

Something else was bothering me though, something I couldn't put my finger on. It was a feeling in my gut, one that promised something big in the making. My intuition was usually pretty strong, and I've felt this feeling before. Something was going to happen.

I shook my head, bringing my focus back to the ball in my hands. Three spins. Michelle had given me a 6 serve, right down the middle.

I backed up for my jump, allowing me to make an approach for the serve. Three steps should do it.

Taking one more deep breath, I started towards the line.

One, two, three, jump.

I connected with the ball smoothly, sending it sailing over the next with a violent spin. Landing, I felt my right knee give slightly, not enough to make me fall, but enough to give the joint a slight ache as I ran into the court. Just tweaked it probably, landed wrong or something. I couldn't worry about it until the point was over.

The other team returned the ball with a hard hit, one Michelle couldn't get to in the back corner of the court. 13-14 them.

"We have to break the serve." Michelle stated with frustration in her voice.

We were both about to our breaking point with the game. Our energy level was almost completely gone from the intense game. The other team had the momentum now. We had to take it back.

The tall had the serve. She bounced the ball twice, leaped through the air and made contact. The ball spun down, a short serve to spot 2 in front of me.

I pushed off towards the ball, preparing to dive for it. As I pushed against the sand the nagging ache was back, causing me to grunt from the pain and slow my movement. I dove anyways, stretching as far as I could to get a hand under the ball. Anything to keep it from hitting the sand.

The ball hit off of my fist and popped up much to my delight, but the angle of my fist was wrong and the ball went straight into the net. Michelle was under the ball in seconds, digging the ball up enough for me to get under it. But I could get back up out of the sand. My knee wouldn't allow me to do so. To my dismay, I watched the ball hit the sand just out of my reach.

The whistle blew. The other team cheered and the audience clapped. The game was over.

And I still couldn't move.

Michelle stood easily, hands on her head as she caught her breath. With her focus on the other team's celebration, she chuckled.

"Well, there goes our tournament. At least we get a chance to rest and prepare for the next one." She said, ever the optimist.

She looked back to me and her face fell, her brows furrowing at my position on my stomach in the sand. I haven't moved.

"Hey, what's wrong E?"

I moved to my back, my chest heaving. Gently, I rubbed the back of my knee.

"Must have tweaked something." I stated casually.

"Let's get you checked out."

I could hear her worried tone, and without looking at her I knew she had her hands on her hips. She was protective of me, like a sister, and I knew I wouldn't hear the end of it until I got it checked out.

"Alright. Can you help me up?"

In an instant she was by my side. When I was back on my feet, we both were greeted by the other team who had become curious when we didn't approach the net to shake hand.

"You too okay?" the tall asked. She must have been 25 or so, obviously experienced in the game. Her partner seemed to be the same age. They both were practically poster girls for the sport. Tall, tan, and blonde. Both were very good opponents, and to come check on me was very sportsmanlike of them. True athletes.

"My knee gave a little on me in the last two points." I answered.

"Hope it isn't serious." The speed spoke up, "I've seen many players go down with knee injuries. Are you planning on letting someone look at it?"

"Yeah, I was just taking her to the athletic trainers to see what they think of it." Michelle confirmed. She looked down at my knee in a swift motion, noticing that I was holding most of my body weight on my left leg instead of the injured one. She had her arm around my waist and tightened it after the observation.

"Good luck. Hopefully it's good news." The tall said, giving me a nod.

"Thanks. And good game you too. Heck of a match." I said with a smile.

They both smiled at me, telling Michelle the same and shaking our hands before walking off. Most of the crowd had left for another court, but the ones that remained clapped for the exchange and for Michelle helping me off the court. You always clapped for an athlete getting back up after an injury, no matter how small.

I insisted once we were on the concrete instead of the sand that I could manage without the help from Michelle, who reluctantly allowed me to walk by myself. Well, limp would be a better description. I still kept most of the weight off of it. This wasn't my first injury in my career and I knew it was better to treat it seriously and with care until I knew what was wrong.

After about 10 minutes of examining my knee, the trainers really didn't have a reason. Probably a strain of some ligaments was the diagnosis, and I was told to take it easy for about a week. Ice it for 20 minutes every couple of hours until the week was up and it should be good. They started me off with the first icing, wrapping two bags of ice on the front and back of my knee with plastic wrap to keep it in place so I could walk around.

As I sat on the temporary table, ready to hop down and watch the rest of the day's games, my eyes spotted Justin.

He stood there in the middle of the walk way, hurriedly looking around as he searched the crowd. He must have just arrived, car keys still in his right hand. In his left, a bouquet of yellow daisies serving as his apology this time.

A part of me was so angry at him. He should have been here for the game. No amount of flowers was going to make up for his absence. It wouldn't have been a big deal except for the fact that he told me he would come. He's broken so many of those promises.

And I had every intention to tell him so.

Until he finally saw me.

He smiled slightly as he started towards me, flowers held in front as if it was a peace offering. Then he saw the ice attached to my knee. His brow furrowed in confusion.

"What happened?" he asked as he stopped in front of me, looking down to examine the knee.

"It's nothing. Just a strain." I muttered as I hopped down from the table, keeping my right leg off the ground until I was securely stabilized on the ground. I positioned my knee behind me, as if trying to block it from view. I averted my eyes from his face to the flowers, still mad about him showing up late.

"Well that's good. Sorry I'm late love. I bought you these." Justin extended the flowers to me, which I took without looking up, saying a barely audible thank you.

I had the mind to tell him how him being late made me feel, but once I had gathered the courage to do so and looked up into his face and met his eyes, I knew it was hopeless.

I couldn't stay mad. I loved him too much.

He gave me a smile which I returned.

"Did you win the game?" he questioned, pulling me into his arms.

"No, lost 15-13 in the third." I sighed, still disappointed by the loss.

Justin rubbed my arms up and down gently, making soothing circles on my skin. He did this every time I lost, and it's become a comfort of sorts.

"Sounds like a good game though, and at least you will be allowed to rest that knee."

That was fortunate. Even if we had won the game, the trainer would have put me on the sidelines and Michelle and I would have had to forfeit. I guess I could wait to play again.

"So are you working late tonight?" I questioned, letting my arms rest on his shoulders as looked up at him. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. It shocked me slightly that his eyes looked so distant, and I almost asked what was wrong. Justin, however, spoke up before I could.

"Yeah, but I might try to swing by your place before heading home."

The sentence made me forget my knee as I jumped up and down in excitement. Justin was horrified by the sudden movement and grabbed my shoulders to hold me still.

"E! Be careful!" I laughed at his caution as I hugged him.

"I'm sorry! I'm just excited!" I answered honestly.

"It's not for sure." He stated quietly, looking uncertain if he would be able to come or not. He was trying to keep me from getting my hopes up, but it was far too late. I was already looking forward to it.

"Well, let's just say you are." I insist, smiling up at him with adoration. I love him. Sure I didn't see him much lately, but it was wonderful when I did get to see him.

He lets out a chuckle before kissing my cheek. "Alright," he says, "But I'm not promising anything."

"Fine." I stated with the smile still plastered across my face.

Even the tiniest chance of seeing him would always brighten my day.

****

It was about 10 o'clock at night.

I had ordered myself Chinese food earlier, now gone with the paper boxes discarded. Michelle had come over for a little while, checked on my knee and we sat in the kitchen and talked about everything and anything that came to mind. Her favorite topic was her lackluster dating life. I kept trying to tell her that she was only 23, the same age as me, and had time to find the right guy.

"But you're only a few months older than I am and you are getting married." She would say, dramatically huffing and gesturing wildly with her arms. "I'm going to end up being that crazy lady with ten thousand cats! And I don't even like cats!"

The statement made me chuckle. Partly because she was over exaggerating the entire situation, and partly because I knew she was slightly right. I mean, I was young. I just happened to find the right guy young. I was just lucky I suppose. And whether she wanted to believe it or not, she would find somebody. I could feel it.

The night was a bad one to be out, not to mention having to drive. The heat of the day had turned into a thunderstorm with rain coming down in sheets. Thunder shook my house as it echoed the lightening, the conversation between the two both awesome and terrifying. I've always had a healthy respect for storms and even felt some fear for the naturally occurring monsters. I'd feel much better if Justin could come over. He was my protection.

I had just popped the Gladiator DVD, one of my favorite movies, into the TV when the phone rang. Glancing at the number, I recognized it belonged to Justin and quickly answered.

"Hey babe. What's up?" My voice barely hid my excitement.

"Hey E. Mind if I come over?" Justin's voice sounded uncertain, probably because of the late hour and the storm.

"Yeah, sure. I'll see you soon." I said happily.

We exchanged goodbyes and I curled up on the couch to watch the movie while I wait. The gym was only about 30 minutes away, so he should be here soon.

Right on time, I heard his car drive up.

As I went to answer the door, there it was again. That feeling. The same one from the court. Something was wrong. It was no longer just a feeling of something without knowing good or bad, this was dread. A strong disturbance created by something I didn't know. It felt as if I was to brace myself, to shield myself from the world. But what could go wrong? Especially when Justin was just a few feet from the door? I'm over thinking, putting tension into a situation that doesn't deserve it.

I force a smile as I open the door, watching as my fiancé made his way to the shelter from the rain. He had his jacket pulled tightly around him, jogging with his head down to shield himself from the rain. I stepped out of the way as he strides into the house, dripping on my wooden floors as he sheds the jacket and hangs it on the usual spot, a coat rack next to the foyer closet.

"It's a mess outside. I'm glad you made it safely." I comment, closing the door behind me and going to hug Justin from behind. As my arms circle his waist, he carefully takes a hold of my hands and pulls them from around him, stepping out of my embrace and turning around, his eyes looking down at our hands. He rubs the tops of my hands with his thumbs gently; the gesture is meant to be soothing but I felt nothing but nerves. What's in his head?

"What's wrong?" I ask, though I know there is. He still wouldn't look at me. A minute goes by, neither of us saying anything. When I think I'm about to burst, he finally looks up. I gasp silently at the look. His eyes. They didn't have that warmth that I loved. They looked distant, detached. His brow was pulled together in a manner that meant he was coming up with what to say.

In my head, I try to justify it.

He had a bad day at work, and he's telling me something went wrong with the gym preparation.

He heard horrible news from an old friend.

He was having financial issues.

None of these scenarios fit.

"What's wrong?" I repeat, my voice shaking as the words fall out of my mouth.

He sighed, breaking eye contact once again. He forces himself to look back at me, his grip still tight on my hands.

"We need to talk." He says, and automatically my heart drops to the pit of my stomach.

I choke on the words that I wanted to say, feeling that I know what is coming but prolonging the inevitable and shaking my head in confusion.

"About?" I whisper, barely audible, but he heard me. How could he not with the proximity in which we were standing?

He takes a deep breath, gathering his words before finally breaking the silence and filling my ears with his sweet voice, the voice I loved, filled with horrible words.

"I think our relationship has run its course."

**Sorry for the cliff hanger, but it's how I imagined this chapter ending. Plus, hopefully it will encourage you to reveiw and look forward to the next chapter! **

**And John is entering this story soon, so hang in there. **

**Much love,**

**Meg**


	4. Chapter 4

**And here is the introduction of John. I tried to make it longer, and I'm hoping you all enjoy it!**

**By the way, some of these secondary characters will be past and present WWE stars. Not all, but just some thrown in, like Michelle (Michelle McCool). And another character to be introduced this chapter. If I was inspired to use them, or I just automatically pictured them in the addition of a new character, they will be there. Just a heads up.**

**Disclaimer: I only own the OC and the plot. Everything else belongs to whoever owns it. No harm meant and no profit gained in the creation of this story. **

*****Warning: This chapter may be a little graphic in the sense that I am describing injuries. No gore, but if you are at all squeamish, it may be a little unsettling (possibly it could just be me that is unsettled by it. I'm taking most of the description from my own experiences with my knee injury from a few years back, and it brings up a heck of a lot of disturbing memories). I will add warnings to the chapters with these descriptions, so just be on the look out.*****

My heart dropped to my stomach, and I felt the words sinking into my mind, and I felt it would leave a deep scar as it seared into my mind.

_I think our relationship has run its course._

I had to be mistaken. Justin wouldn't say that. Not to me. Not to his fiancée, his future wife. No, I heard him wrong.

I shake my head to clear the fog that had settled within my brain.

"What?" I manage to let slip from my mouth.

Justin wasn't looking at me. He was refusing to give me any eye contact as he wrung his hands, choosing his words carefully. I stood for what seemed an eternity, every passing second making the ache in my chest just a little bit more unbearable. I wrapped an arm around my stomach, gripping at my shirt as if it would hold me together. Justin took a large breath and continued.

"I just don't feel the same anymore. I've changed."

He still won't look at me, and I can feel myself starting to shake. Half out of pain, half due to the steadily rising anger.

"Then why did you even propose?" I accuse, "If you didn't feel the same why did you tell me we'd be together forever?" my voice rising as the emotions swept over me. My mind flew back to the memory of the proposal. He had gone all out with the romance; cooked me dinner, ate by candlelight under the stars on the back deck of his house, roses everywhere. He got down on one knee, professing his love for me and bringing forward the beautiful diamond ring that now adorned my hand. I said yes without a second thought. But I wasn't always so sure. I was the one who was skeptical of the relationship at first. I was the one who questioned whether it would last, having been hurt a few times before. _He_ was the one who said forever. He convinced me it was real. And I fell so hard because of it. He was the one who I was going to be married to and have kids with and I was planning the rest of our lives. Planning…I barely have planned any of our wedding yet, both of us being busy and I wanted to plan with him so he felt included. I had only looked at wedding dresses on line, marking them in my favorites for later. Everything else was to wait until we could both plan. And now, he was saying no? He was calling it quits?

Justin could see all of these painful thoughts running through my head and his face twisted in distress.

"I thought I could change it. I thought I was just stressed with the gym, and if I focused on us enough, I could get passed the fact that I was losing myself and losing my feelings for you. But I tried, and it isn't getting any better."

By now the shaking is visible. Hot tears are streaming down my face as I cover my mouth to suppress the sob. He's seen me cry before, but this time was different. He caused it.

He made a move forward as if the reach out and comfort me, but thought better of it at the last second. He sighed, looking up at me as I dropped my head. I was now the one avoiding eye contact.

"You deserve someone who will love you back, E. Someone who won't lose their love for you. This isn't your fault. It is me. Really. I know that is cheesy but it is true. You were the best girl I've ever had a relationship with."

I let out a sound of disbelief, a huff of sarcastic laughter.

"Don't say that. Obviously I wasn't the best. Otherwise, you wouldn't…" I trail off, unable to finish the words: otherwise you wouldn't leave me. As I wipe my cheek, the weight of the ring on my left hand is suddenly intensified. I rip it off of my finger as if it burned my skin and hold it out.

"Here. You can have this back then."

Justin looks stricken, shaking his head and backing away from my outstretched hand.

"No, I gave that to you. It is yours."

"Justin, it's an engagement ring. If we are not engaged, then it is not mine, and I don't want it." I argue with bitterness in my voice as I thrust my hand towards him again, the ring shifting slightly in my open palm as I held the ring between us. The white gold caught the light in the hallway, sparkling as if to taunt me.

"I don't want it."

"But it is yours." I insisted, frustration building.

Justin grunts in his own frustration, his hands going up to hold his head. "If you don't want it, then sell it."

"No!" I gasp, pulling it back to my chest protectively. "I can't sell it." I whimper, my voice sounding pitiful even to my own ears. And I know I can't sell the ring. I cherished it so much when he gave it to me. I wouldn't be able to sell it if I tried. He relaxes slightly to my softer tone.

"Just keep it, Evan." He states again.

I stare at him, still controlling the sob that threatened to fall from my lips at any moment. The person in front of me looked so distant and withdrawn, so uncomfortable. This person was no longer the Justin I fell in love with. He had indeed changed. But I still couldn't accept it. My Justin was still there. Deep down. Why was he doing this?

I automatically felt ashamed, racking my brain for what I had done wrong. Surely something I did changed his mind about us. Surely I was the reason this was falling apart in front of me. Without a second thought, the part of me that wants to please everyone came back into control. If only I could take whatever it was back. I had to try to fix whatever my words of anger damaged.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled." I state, to which Justin shook his head.

"Evangeline, this is not your fault. You have every right to be upset. I am to blame, not you!" Justin says a bit more forcefully than I expected, emotion cracking his voice at the end of his statement. I was startled by his words, more that he had gotten so worked up at my apology. I stare at him, wanting to see the emotion, wanting to see that this was hurting him too. To verify that I did mean something. That losing me was hard on him. But I didn't get to see it, as he composed himself quickly. I've seen the face he wore before. He was creating a barrier, blocking out the world to protect his feelings. He was blocking me out, staying strong in my presence. But I know him. I know who he is, and I know what he's doing. The worst part is I knew he was serious. He wasn't going to back down, because he thought this was the best for both of us. I could see the determination in his eyes, and it struck to my core. But don't my feelings matter? Don't I have a say? I guess that makes me selfish, but I wasn't ready to end the relationship. But what could I do? His mind was already made up.

"I meant it when I said you were the best girl I've ever dated. And you're going to make someone happy."

"I just wish that someone was you." I say as the tears continue. And it's the truth. With every fiber in my being I wanted him to be the one. But he wasn't. He had made that decision for me.

He looked at me with a sadness that spoke on so many levels, but with a confidence that told me he felt he was doing what was right. I had told him when we first started dating that I would never make him do something he didn't want to do. This was no exception. I would not make him stay for my benefit. No matter how much I wanted his to stay, if he didn't want to stay I wouldn't be able to keep him here.

"Me too." He said simply.

He reached behind me, pulling his jacket from the wall and pulling it on slowly. My mind told me he was leaving, my heart wanting me to stop him, change his mind somehow.

"So, what now?" I ask. I didn't know what to do. For years I have talked to this man every day, shared secrets, made memories. And now, what? He would disappear for good? I'd never see him again? Just the thought alone made the tears flow faster.

"I thing you and I could be friends. Great friends, even." Justin starts, "But we both need to take some time to heal. I still care about you, but being in your life would only make things worse. I don't want to hurt you."

_Too late_, I thought bitterly, but held my tongue.

"I think it's best if we cut off communication, any connections really, for a few months at least." He finishes.

I looked at him again, my vision blurred with tears as he stood before me. With the light behind him he tears gave him an unearthly glow, like an angel. And I guess I had considered him to be something of the sort. A Godsend. Someone sent from Heaven for me. But now I suppose that wasn't the case. I blocked his path for the door, as if I could stand firm and not let him leave, but if he touched me even with the lightest touch I would crumble to the ground in a heap of emotion. I draw in a quivering breath.

"Well, I guess I will talk to you later then." It felt odd coming from my mouth and sounded foreign to my ears but what was I supposed to say? I couldn't say my usual farewell of "I love you." Not when it was clear that is no longer what he felt. It is the only thing I could think of saying.

Justin nods along, knowing how hard it must be for me to even get any words out at this point.

"Yeah, until then. Goodbye E."

He steps around me, careful not to brush me. That, I am grateful for.

"Bye." I manage to say, it coming out more as a whisper than anything, but I know he heard it because of his hesitating step out into the rain. Or maybe he was just preparing to face the storm. I'll never know. The door shuts with a small thud behind him. I jump at the sound as if he had shot me.

Just like that, he's gone. And I'm alone.

He's gone.

My knees buckled underneath me, unable to hold my weight that had suddenly become extremely heavy. I ended up curled against the wall next to the door, the sobs no longer restrained. More than once I looked to the door hoping to see the knob turning, to see Justin come back into my home and sweep me into his arms, saying it was all a big mistake and that he'd never leave me again. But I sat for what seemed eons and the door stood firm, closing me off from the one person in my life that could have stopped the heartache. Only this time, he was the one that caused it.

The next few hours were a blur. I eventually regained my footing and pulled myself in the bedroom, where I proceeded to trash all of the flowers. The violets, the tulips, the roses, the daisies; all of them were taken apart and thrown away, the vases left empty and void of all happiness and life that the flowers brought. To my eyes, they echoed my own feelings. I was empty, no longer filled with the joy that I once held. The ring was more cared for then the innocent flowers, but back in the box it came in and placed out of eyesight.

Before I could even understand what I was doing, I was dressing into a pair of spandex shorts and an old baggy t-shirt, the clothes I would wear to practice volleyball in when I didn't want to wear my bikini or uniform. I was lacing up my shoes, ones that withstood the sand of the court. I grabbed the practice ball and left the house, heading towards the practice court in the backyard. The rain was still pouring, soaking my garments in seconds, but I wasn't affected by it. I was numb to the rain. I could feel it hitting my skin but beyond the recognition of it there I did not care. My eyes were only focused on the court in front of me, lit by some light poles placed around the structure.

Practice would help. Practice made me better. Practice made me stronger. In practice I could fix my mistakes and fix what was wrong, and I desperately needed to fix something. Practice let me escape.

I walked up to the court and walked across the flooding sand to the net, making sure it was tight enough. After checking the settings I headed for the back line. I knew exactly what I would practice. My jump serve. It was shaky in the game today, missing spots and even a few went sailing out of bounds. I could fix that.

As I began the walk back to the line, I could hear a car pulling up. It took me a moment to recognize the sound of Michelle's car, a 1997 Oldsmobile Allero that wheezed as if too tired to make it up the driveway. It was her baby, which is why she'd never sell it. For a moment, I thought I would be Justin's Dodge Charger. But it ran smoother than Michelle's car, and I knew from the sound it was not him and I let that hope die. The headlights pulled up beside me, illuminating me in its eerie glow as I continued to the line.

I stumbled through the sand, small ditches and hills compacted from the rain with puddles gathering throughout. The sand was hard, compact and unforgiving. I heard the slam of a car door and knew Michelle could see me.

"Evan!"

Her voice told me she already knew. When Justin would leave town for a business trip, he'd always call Michelle and ask her to keep an eye on me for him. Not that I needed protection. He just wanted me safe. My guess was that the minute he got to the car he called her, informing her of what transpired. Michelle, my best friend, had to learn from my fiancé-no, my ex, I had to tell myself-about his decision to leave me. Or maybe she already knew beforehand what was going to happen. My mind went back to the conversation in the kitchen when she had said how lucky I was and how she wanted what I had. Well, that makes two of us. _I_ wanted it too.

Michelle ran, or rather slipped, through the grass as she made her way to the court. The ground had become a watery mess. She still had a good 20 feet to get through as I set up for my serve.

"Evan what are you doing? You're going to get sick!" She said with worry, yelling because the storm was deafening in our ears "Come inside and we can get you dried off!"

I ignored her, going through my routine to serve. Three steps back.

"Evan, let's talk! Please, we need to go inside!" Michelle was already drenched through her coat, her hair sticking to her face as water dripped from her brow.

"I've talked enough today." I muttered, knowing she couldn't hear me but not caring enough to yell. My voice wouldn't allow it. I was still shaking from sobs, my tears mixing with raindrops. The crying left me exhausted and with a headache, but I was fighting to fix something. I needed to be useful; to have something to do that will help. A perfected jump serve would do just that.

I threw the ball in the air and took my approach.

One, two, three, jump.

I connected with the ball hard, sending it spiraling over the net. It made a satisfying thud against the sand on the other court and I landed.

Well, attempted to land.

The sand had hardened with the impact of the rain, and gave nothing to cushion my weight as I landed on the ridge of the small hill in the sand that ran beneath my feet. Immediately my right leg shifted drastically, as if the lower half had been pulled away from the kneecap, and I heard two audible pops. A sharp pain raced up my leg, sending a spasm through my spine and finding my mouth in a gut-wrenching scream as I fell to the ground, gripping my knee tightly.

I landed with the offended limb underneath me, knowing enough sense to roll to my back as my next scream was choked in sobs.

"Evan?" Michelle seemed frozen at my sudden fall, he voice finding my ears in the form of a whisper. A third scream brought her out of the trance.

"Evan! What happened?"

I clutched at the ground as if in an attempt to hold myself together, the pain gripping my knee and refusing to let up. I gasped, screaming again as rain struck my face. My eyes were screwed shut, blocking me from the world. I felt the rain disappear as Michelle kneeled over me.

"Evan?" she screamed, her panic rising at my inability to speak.

"My knee!" I cried, putting my hands over my face as the torturous pain continued. How long would it hold my knee in its clutches? This wasn't the ache from the game. This was a thousand times worst, a monstrous brother to the hint of an injury I had earlier.

Michelle didn't take another second to think about it before she swept me into her arms, struggling to her feet in the sand that had turned to shallow pits in the ground. I let out a groan as my leg swayed in the movement. The pain was finally subsiding slightly, but the fresh tears still left a reminder of what I had experienced. I wrapped my arms around her neck to steady myself and held fast as she walked briskly, but carefully, back to the car. She managed to get the door open and slid me into the backseat, allowing my legs to rest on the empty seat next to me. I sat there, a sobbing wet mess with two pains, as she drove to the nearest hospital. Neither of us spoke, but you could feel the emotion in the air within the car. It smothered me, and I felt I owed Michelle words, but I couldn't bring myself to speak through the tears.

Michelle drove with an intensity I've seen on the court. She was running on nerves and adrenaline. It would be no use to try to speak anyways. She was too focused to distract with my outpour of agony to add to the tension of the situation.

So I closed my eyes, willing myself to wake up from the nightmare the night had turned into, and allowed the silence to sweep over me. Silence that brought no peace of mind, only my choking sobs filling the space.

**xxxx**

(John's Point of View)

The offices of the small business of California Physical Therapy had been awfully quiet as of late. My patients of the day had consisted only of an elderly woman recovering from a hip replacement and a middle aged gentleman learning to get back on his feet after an accident at work had broken his ankle. In my field, an easy day was a good thing in a way, one that meant people were healthy. For me, an easy day meant I didn't get to help enough people.

I don't mean that as in I want people to get hurt. I want people to be healthy. After all, it is my job to help the healing process. I just mean that I love my job, and I love being able to help people get back to their prime. When our building is lacking patients, it is bittersweet. I'm happy for people staying healthy, but I wish I could help someone, anyone, feel just a little bit better.

The building was quiet for the most part, it being close to 10 o'clock at night. A few patients were still here, the ones with the graveyard shifts at their jobs that left this to be one of the few times to work with us. Away from the grand room full of equipment and tools that are designed to help and now tucked away in my private office, I took the down time to catch up on my paperwork. Files were not my strong point, but this job required it. I typed away, consumed by the stacks of paper on my desk. I was interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Without turning around, I called for them to come in.

"Hey John." My coworker, Stephen, said casually as he sat on the corner of my desk, ignoring the large comfy chair I had set out for visitors. Stephen has been my friend since college when we struggled through material for our medical classes together at the University of Southern California. By pure luck, we both ended up at the same Physical Therapy center. He played with my desk's name plate as I finished the current file I was on, commenting on the progression of my patient Martha, a young woman who had dislocated her shoulder in a heated college basketball game against her team's rivals. I spun my chair around and crossed my hands behind my head, reclining to look up at Stephen.

"Has you hair gotten more red?" I tease him, chuckling at the roll of his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah I know. The ginger from Ireland gets made fun of. What's new?" Stephen mutters. He has been an American citizen since he was twelve years old, but his accent was still intact from years of living in his native country. He came to the United States with his parents and I met him on the first day of my graduate school career. The rest is history.

"I don't know what you are talking about, Ste." I say in an exaggerated Irish accent, causing him to throw my rubber band ball that was left carelessly on my desk in my direction and subsequently hitting my square in the chest. He laughs as I rubbed the now tender spot. "Serves you right!" he hollers, gasping for air in between laughs.

"So was your workload as easy as mine today?" I question, subconsciously rocking back and forth in my chair. "Eh, it was pretty light today. I only had three patients." He states, confirming I wasn't the only one feeling the lack of work. We are both busybodies, never really liking the slower days.

"Well, I personally wish there was more to do. The paperwork is melting my brain." I groan, preoccupying myself with balancing a pencil on its eraser. "You have a brain?" Ste jokes, and I send him a fake glare in response, my pencil clattering to the desk in my lack of focus. I sigh and try again.

"You know what would get your mind off of things? A girl." Ste says matter-of-factly. I put the pencil down and glance at him. "Not this again Stephen." He's been trying to find me a girl since college, and in is defense he has picked some pretty attractive and smart ladies, but I just had abandoned the whole notion of love at the moment. I was always busy, always working, and girls didn't like that. Girls needed attention. Attention I couldn't give at the moment. It was never the girl's fault for a relationship failing; it was inability to give her what she needed. Needless to say, I've only dated once or twice since entering my career field. Each one, the girl ended it. I can't blame them though.

Ste held his hands up in defense, but I knew what he was getting at. He wouldn't let it drop until he had spilled his intentions.

"I'm just saying it could be good for you. I know you've tried, but you haven't really given it a shot." He insists. He crosses his arms over his expansive chest and waited for my reasoning against his argument. Let the debate begin.

"I don't have time for a woman in my life, Ste."

"How do you know if you don't try?"

"I know that I can't give a lady the attention she deserves when I'm so wrapped up at work." I insist.

"I make time for women." Stephen points out. Which is true. He has had his fair share of dates, even got out of a relationship not too long ago. It wasn't a long one, maybe a month or two, and it wasn't a messy break up. The girl had accepted a job in Arizona that she couldn't turn down. Emily, I think her name was. She was a sweet girl. When I questioned Ste about it, he just said it wasn't the right time for them, and they agreed that they should just break up instead of deal with the distance.

"Well, what if it doesn't work out? What if I break the girl's heart?" I throw out, knowing as it left my mouth it was no good to argue that point.

"Well, what if it does work out?" Stephen shoots out automatically.

I give a heavy sigh, rubbing my temple with two fingers. I wasn't going to win with him. Not until I try.

"I'll think about it, okay?" I give in, Ste looking genially happy at the statement.

"Good! Maybe we can go out to a bar sometime and wind down from the day, drink a few drinks, and start working on finding you a lady!" He was already excited with the idea. The glint in his eye made me nervous. What did I get myself into?

I open my mouth to protest, but Stephen cut me off. "You said yourself it was a slow day, so you don't have a lot of work. If you don't come out with me now, who knows when you will?"

I grunt, looking at the calendar. This week was packed, but I had a day off next week. Vacation day that the office had assigned me. I've been neglecting my days off and skipping them. They were literally telling me to stay home. Internally, I made a note to try to get out more often. It was kind of pathetic.

"How about next week? I'm off on that Thursday." I say. His face lights up at the idea and he hops off of the desk, slapping me on the back in excitement.

"Excellent! I've got the perfect place."

He starts towards the door, turning at the last moment and pointing back in my direction. "You'll thank me for this one day!" he calls as he disappears into the hall.

"Yeah, yeah! Whatever!" I shout back, shaking my head as I turn back to the computer. Maybe he was right.

Maybe it was time for a change.

**I hope you all like this one! Sorry again for the wait. Rate and review please! It keeps me motivated. Thanks!**

**Much love,**

**Meg**


	5. Chapter 5

**I realize I have been kind of rude as of late, so let me start off by saying thank you to everyone who has reviewed and put my story on alert. Thanks to CenaRKO1986, my time is now, TheeEveFan, and therealchamps for reviewing! And to everyone who put my story on alert or favorite it, thanks! It really means the world to me! **

**So, another long delay, but it's a little better than two weeks (I got this one up about three days earlier than the two week mark). I'm going to try my best to have the next one up Saturday or Sunday of this week. **

**Nothing to add, except to point out to those who did not know, Ste is Stephen Farrelly (Otherwise known as Sheamus). Though I'm sure you all got that, I thought I'd mention it in case it went unnoticed to any of you. Also, if I don't state it is John's (or anyone else's) point of view, assume it is Evan's. Anyways, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own only the OCs and plot. Everything else is owned by whoever has the right to own it. No harm meant and no profit gained in the creation of this story.**

I despise hospitals.

I've never liked them, not since I was a child. When I was around six years old, my grandfather fell and busted his hip on the stairs of his home. We visited him once it had been repaired, but the image of him laid up in bed with tubes going in every direction and all of the bandages, paired with the fact that he had to undergo a hue recovery process for his age, scarred me for life. I didn't understand at the time that it was supposed to help him, being there in that stark white room with tubes and machines. I had nightmares for weeks that I would end up in the hospital at my young age, people coming to visit me with tubes running through my recovering body.

In a way I guess I was right.

As a professional athlete, I have had the misfortune of visiting a hospital or two, mostly for sprained ankles. My ankles have never liked me that much. Those were not too serious though. There was one time involving a hospital that was serious, though it wasn't my injury, where Michelle had gone viciously after a ball and ran into the hard plastic barrier around the sand court we played on, giving herself a small concussion. I remember the emotions I experienced, first shocked then worried. I had ridden in the ambulance with her, telling her she was crazy to go after the ball and how it was just a game. Then again, I knew I would have done the same thing. We both played hard, which is what made us a phenomenal team. After noticing my words weren't helping her I resorted to telling her she would be just fine. She just bumped her head. She was just going to need a few days and then she'd be the fun loving Michelle I knew and loved. Now the roles have switched.

The nurses in the ER took one look at me, curled up in Michelle's arms with my practice clothes sticking to my body from the rain and still covered in sand, and whisked me into a wheelchair. Michelle explained the situation as the nurse rolled me down the hallway, stopping at a standard examination room and ushering us inside. For half an hour Michelle and I sat there watching the clock as it counted the passing minutes. I didn't want to be here, and the fact that we had to wait only made it worse. My clothes were drying. Sand was left in all the wrinkles of the shirt, littering the floor when I moved. Michelle was also impatient, going from looking through one of the old magazines to reading the labels of the jars and containers in the room to pacing the small space.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

We still haven't really talked, and my insides were burning with the urge to reach out and strike up the conversation I know would come sooner or later.

"How did you find out?" I ask once the silence had become too much for me. My voice was hoarse from screaming and crying so it was more of a croak, but Michelle turned her attention to me and stopped the mind-numbing pacing. She leaned against the counter, her elbows propping her up, before answering. She looked me dead in the eyes, letting me know she wouldn't lie to me or give me a half truth. She knew I needed to know. After all I've been through tonight, I deserved the truth.

"He called me."

So my assumption was correct. He had called her to check on me. To make sure I was going to be okay. While I should have been grateful for him to care enough to call her, my first reaction was anger. He called her, as if he was concerned for me. He didn't care. Not enough to stay with me. The words burned in my heart and I knew they were only spite and bitterness that was an effect from the breakup, but right now it didn't matter.

I nodded, but said no more.

"What were you doing practicing on a bad knee?" Michelle asked, keeping her voice even and calm though I knew she really wanted to tear into me about it. I would feel the same if positions were switched. We were both competitive, but what I had done tonight was reckless. The trainer had told me to stay off of it. I threw caution to the wind. And now I was paying for it.

I shrugged, suddenly aware of the start of swelling in my knee. My face burned with shame as I looked away.

"I was trying to fix some things." I mutter.

Michelle's face softened at my quiet answer. She came to crouch in front of me, like a parent would do with an upset child. I thought I'd be offended by the gesture, consider it to be calling me weak, but I found it to show she cared.

"What were you trying to fix?" she asked gently. She waited patiently for my answer. I knew what she wanted to hear, but I couldn't say it. If I did, there would be no turning back. I wouldn't be able to hide behind the wall I had started to build up between me and my emotion. I wouldn't be able to lie about my feelings, and I would break down into the mess Justin left lying on the floor of my foyer.

"My serve." I answer weakly, sounding like a child. Please, God, let it stop at that. Let her accept that answer for now.

I could tell she was going to dig deeper but as she opened her mouth the doctor came in, closing the door behind him and sitting down in the chair next to the door. Michelle gave me a look that said she would ask again later but that she was here for me when I wanted to talk, and then she took her place against the counter once more.

"Evangeline Parker I assume?" the doctor said, sliding his glasses down to look at his chart.

"Yes sir." I answered, forcing the emotion back down and making my voice smooth as stone.

"I'm Dr. Andrews," he says "How about we get down to business?"

I nod and wait for him to continue. He pulls his chair towards me, looking over my right knee with gentle but knowledgeable hands. This was obviously not the first knee injury he has encountered. He felt the joint and I gritted my teeth through the tender areas on my knee, especially the back and sides.

"Can you put wait on it?" he questioned.

My brow furrowed at the idea. I hadn't tried to walk on it at all, Michelle carrying me and then the wheelchair being provided.

"Honestly, I haven't attempted it."

"Well, you have a bit of swelling, but I want to see if you can. If you would, walk to the door and back as normally as possible."

I stood up carefully, Michelle on alert to catch me if I needed it. I took a shaky step onto my right leg and realized it could hold some weight, but my leg had swollen to where I could not straighten it. The result was me tip-toeing on my right leg and walking fine on my left. I made it to the door, turned around and came back without too much pain. I was sore, no doubt, but it could hold some weight without causing me harm. As I walked, Dr. Andrews had moved to stand by the examining table and instructed me to hop up onto it, with Michelle's help.

He placed his knee under my own and grabbed the lower half of my leg with both hands. As gently as possible, he tugged lightly on my shin, pulling it towards him. Then he pressed down on it. I recognized the examination from the trainer earlier today at the courts. They had done practically the same thing, testing my joint and my range of motion. Dr. Andrews had a slightly bigger challenge because of the swelling, but it was nonetheless the same routine. He asked for an account of the injury, and I started to explain everything that had happened as of late. The game, my knee giving out, the practice, the pops, and the pain; I skipped the reason why I had been practicing, but I told him anything I could think of that would help him decide what was wrong.

After all was said and done, he jotted something down on his clipboard and removed his glasses. I searched his face for any sign, positive or negative, but his face gave no hints of the verdict. He looked up with me and in a calm voice, began his diagnosis.

"Well, it is definitely your ACL, or your Anterior Cruciate Ligament."

Any hopes of a quick recovery, of a week or two off, vanished as he continued.

"I don't know if you know much about the ligament, but it is one of four major ligaments in your knee. I suspect you pulled it today at the game, made it loose and more vulnerable without realizing it. A week or two may have done some good, but with the sport you play and how you play it, running, jumping, and cutting though sand, it would have been only a matter of time before you tore it. It sounds to me that you did just that tonight, from the situation and description of the two pops. The ACL is made up of two bundles, the anteromedial and the posterolateral, and two pops makes me think you tore right through both of them. The pain on the side also makes me think you make have a torn meniscus, the tissue that keeps your knee cap from rubbing the bone, as well. The swelling in your leg is a protective mechanism that your body automatically does, where the muscles and tissues swell up to protect your knee from further damage, which is why it is not allowing you to straighten you knee completely. When I was tugging on your shin the bone was giving away too much which makes me further think that it is torn since usually the shin would not move so easily. To be sure though that it is a tear, we will need to do an MRI, which we can set up for later in the week."

"Why can't we do it tonight?" Michelle fires out the question, her voice calm to my ears. I couldn't see her face, my own pointed down to the ground.

"The swelling needs to go down some so we can make sure to get a clear reading. A day or two should give it enough time to go down, provided that Mrs. Parker stays off of it to prevent further injury." Dr. Andrews says, and I could feel both of them looking at me. I still hadn't looked up. I refused. I could feel myself slowly slipping from the conversation as Michelle asked question after question, but I didn't really want to listen in anyways.

This had to be a dream. A horrible, sick nightmare. A torn ACL? I've heard horror stories from torn ACLs. General recovery time was around 9 months. 9 months. It might as well be an eternity. I've seen athletes come back in 4 or 5, but more than likely it is much longer, and a quicker recover can lead to another tear. What was I going to do? I make money from playing volleyball. I don't have another job. Any other income comes from appearances for our sponsors, and who is going to show a girl with a bum knee to a group of fans?

What about my knee? How will this affect my game? Will I be slower? Will I be able to jump? Will I have to wear a brace for the rest of my life, being careful and playing it safe? What about Michelle? She makes her money in volleyball as well, and without a partner what will she do? Will she wait until I recover? Or get a new partner?

I wasn't aware that I was hyperventilating until Michelle grabbed my shoulder. I looked up in shock, realizing that they were both looking at me.

"Evan, you okay? I was saying your name and you didn't respond." Michelle says softly, looking at me with concern.

I take a deep breath and nod, glancing to the doctor.

"When did you want to schedule that MRI, Doc?" I question, doing my best to keep every shred of emotion out of my voice.

"Today is Thursday, so how about Saturday?" he suggests. Two days of waiting. Fantastic.

"Okay."

"Excellent. I will go make out the paperwork and grab your crutches. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dr. Andrews left the room, leaving Michelle and I in the wake of the devastating information. Neither of us spoke, and Michelle had started pacing again.

Back and forth.

"A torn ACL." She muttered, almost in disbelief. I shuttered as if she had struck me. I felt so responsible for destroying her career. Because that is exactly what I did. I was selfish and took my own career by the throat and killed it, but in turn I dragged her career down with me. I was stupid. I should have never step foot on that court. The doctor said it would have happened sooner or later, but he couldn't know that for sure. I could have been fine. I did this.

"We will plan your surgery as soon as possible. The sooner we get the knee repaired the sooner we can get back on the court and start kicking butt again." Michelle said. I looked up at her with tears threatening to fall and a frown.

"Michelle, you don't have to wait on me. This is my fault, and because of me you are out of a partner." I took a breath to continue but never got the chance.

"You think I'm just going to walk away like you aren't my teammate? E, you know me better than that."

Michelle came to sit next to me, swinging her legs like a five year old as she turned to face me.

"Now here is what we are going to do. We are going to get you better. Take the time off that you need for recovery and focus on getting you healthy. Then we pick up where we left off."

I made a move to protest and she held her hand up.

"No, it is decided. No arguments. We are going to get through this." She said with the confidence I expected from her before a game. This was challenge like everything else.

"What about money?" I question solemnly, always the pessimist. There was still that problem.

"We could always have a bikini-clad car wash." She said with a shrug as if it was the most logical thing to do.

The image of me limping around with a knee brace and Michelle on the side of the road with a sign trying to attract customers had me doubled over in a laugh, causing her to laugh as well.

"Yes, I suppose we can do that. Or look for temporary jobs."

"Either one." She agrees.

It struck me so odd that in all of this, in everything I've been through in the past 24 hours, Michelle and I could find something to laugh about. And yet here we were, laughing hysterically at such a simple mental image. I was horrified and amused by the humor, simply because I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. But the location enforced the will not to cry, so I allowed myself to be consumed with laughter, if even for a moment or two.

The doctor came back through the door with two things. In one hand he held the crutches he had spoken of. Oh, how I hated crutches. They had to be the most awkward and awful things to walk with. His other hand held a contraption that I assumed was some form of brace. The brace was basically two rods that could bend, though the doctor had set it to where it would stay straight, and Velcro to strap it to my leg. The minute he helped me put it on I knew this would be the bane of my existence for the next few months. It did its job of constricting my movement, and I hated it for that, it's very meaning of existence. I tested it out, and found it to be more comfortable than I thought. Still, I was not looking forward to using it.

Michelle let me walk to the car on my crutches without any help, though it didn't sit well with her. She was two steps behind me the entire walk, ready to catch me if my knee decided to fail. I didn't complain. If it made her feel better to be protective right now, I was going to let her be protective.

The car ride home was silent, the overall theme for the night it would seem. The question Michelle asked earlier while we waited for the doctor still hung in the air between us. I could tell Michelle was itching to ask again, but didn't either not wanting to disturb the peace that had settled somewhat or just waiting until we got back to my house. It was left unsaid, but I knew she would be staying the night tonight. I was overwhelmed completely. The laughter we shared was now a distant memory. Something I could no longer grasp. Now it was back to pain. Not just in my knee, but everywhere. Every cell in my body seemed to cry out all at once and I was helpless against the feeling.

It was pushing 1 a.m. by the time we made it to my driveway. Already the mood was set. My house was left empty, almost completely and sans life. It looked deserted, as if I was not just about to watch a movie a few hours ago. The only lights I could make out were the ones in the backyard, and the lone light of the foyer through the glass of my front door. The rain had luckily let up finally, leaving a mist over everything and puddles covering the ground. Michelle got as close to the front steps as possible in an attempt to eliminate my walking distance and killed the engine in one swift movement.

Without a word, I opened the passenger-side door and went to the stairs, the crutches making me move awkwardly up them. Michelle passed me on the way up, getting to the door first to open it for me. I put on a brave face as I neared the door, determined to get through. It's just a door. I've passed through it so many times before. This shouldn't be so difficult. And yet it was. The minute I was through with Michelle closing the door behind me, my mind was flooded with the words exchanged between me and Justin.

_I think our relationship has run its course._

_I don't feel the same anymore._

_I've changed._

The words ate at me, not leaving an escape from the pain. I stood there, in the very place that he left me, and felt myself breaking.

"E? You okay?"

I turned to look at Michelle without a word, and say the look of concern written across her features. It was all I could do to shake my head no before I was overcome with the emotion once more. Tears seemed to flow endlessly as Michelle pulled me into a fierce hug, my crutches clattering to the ground as I wrapped my arms around her waist and buried my face into her neck. She rubbed soothing circles into my back, shushing me and rocking us slightly back and forth.

"It's okay. It'll all be okay." She cooed, easing down to get the crutches I had let fall carelessly to the floor. She coaxed me to the couch, placing a chair underneath my leg to keep it elevated.

"I'm going to grab some ice for your knee. Take the brace off and when I get back we are going to talk, okay?" Michelle said in a sure voice. I nodded, my hands working at the brace as she left. I sat there and sobbed as she walked around the kitchen making a bag of ice for me. My hands covered my face, blocking out the sight of the foyer. I just couldn't handle it right now. I preferred the darkness to reality.

Michelle situated the ice on my leg and sat with me, letting me cry and vent and sift through everything in my mind. The words poured out of me, as if I was not the one talking but was listening to a bystander explain them. They felt foreign. I could hear myself justifying him leaving, either by saying he shouldn't have to stay with me if it wasn't what he wanted or coming up with an explanation of what I could have done wrong. Michelle mostly sat and listened, only interjected here and then when I took a breath to collect my thoughts. She knew I had to get every thought out before I'd listen to her opinion.

After I had said absolutely everything-the feelings, the ideas of why, what I think was going to happen-she took a breath and straightened up. She stretched from the cramped position we were sitting in and turned her body towards me, tucking her legs under her.

"Evangeline I want you to realize something. And before I continue, promise you won't interrupt me until I am finished."

I nodded and she continued.

"You are not to blame for this. Justin left on his own power by his own decision. You did nothing to drive him away."

I went to open my mouth, to protest that I must have done _something _that led to our demise, but she held up her hand.

"You said you wouldn't interrupt." She pointed out, and I sighed, closing my mouth to allow her to continue.

"This is not about you. This is about Justin. He is a _great_ guy, a _great_ friend, but if he doesn't want this relationship, he is not the _right_ guy for you. I fully believe people just do not fall out of love with the one that is meant to be. Call me old-fashioned or a hopeless romantic, but if you love someone, and I mean true love, the kind that is made for soul mates, you don't fall out of it. If Justin doesn't feel anything but undying love for you, I don't think he is the one. He's not here for a reason. God is going to give you that reason later on. I know you are hurt and my heart breaks for you, and I know this is not what you want to hear right now but somewhere out there is the right guy, the one who won't lose his feelings for you and will want to have that life with you. Don't settle for Justin. No matter how great the relationship was, if he doesn't want it I don't think it is worth saving. I'm not saying you should be automatically happy again. It's going to take time. But I promise you, with every ounce of truth in my body, that this is going to get better. You are so strong, and you're going to get through this like I know you can. Justin made a mistake in letting you go, but now you can't focus on him. You have to focus on you and what you need in life. You understand?"

I nod, a few tears still streaming down my face. I know she's right. I just can't imagine how I'm going to start again. He's been my future for so long, that I don't know where to begin creating a new one.

"And I'm going to be here for you every step of the way." She adds, smiling softly as she squeezed my hand.

I smile back, nowhere near to my full smile but it's a start.

"Now, how about we watch some movies and eat popcorn until we fall asleep?" Michelle suggests, a crooked grin gracing her face.

"I'd like that." I said with a chuckle, making her bounce off the couch and run to the kitchen as I started the movie that I had originally planned on watching early tonight, Gladiator. She came back with blankets and a large bowl of kettle corn popcorn, my favorite, and we cuddled up on the couch as best as we could with my knee, falling asleep about half way through the DVD.

**No John in this chapter but he will be in the next! Review please!**

**Much love, **

**Meg**


	6. Chapter 6

**As promised, I got this one up earlier. I finally got a break from school work to do some writing. Hopefully y'all will enjoy it! Thanks again for all the reviews and favorites/alerts!**

**So this chapter is going to jump a little time wise within the chapter so I can move the story along some. I think it is easy to follow the time, but if not let me know and I will find a different approach for future chapters. In regards to this chapter, the time jumps are not that major but just a heads up. **

**Disclaimer: I own only the plot and the OCs. No profit gained or harm meant in the creation of this story. Also, for this chapter I mention a bar (He's Not Here), which I took the name from an existing bar in Chapel Hill, NC. I do not own it, nor its name, nor its image. I just liked the name. **

When I went back in for the MRI on Saturday, I had already prepared myself for the worst. I went through the motions, lying as still as I possibly could like I was told. The machine required as little movement as possible to get clear results. I still had some swelling, but Dr. Andrews assured me that it was not enough to obscure the results as they helped me into the machine.

If you've never been in an MRI machine, consider yourself lucky. This massive structure is ridiculously loud and ominous. The ear plugs I had took some of the sound away, but it was still deafening being there. I'm slightly claustrophobic and this machine did nothing to calm those fears. There I was, my entire lower half inside the dark tunnel-like structure that takes the readings, watching the time ticking down and wondering if I was still enough. It was an experience that brought out the paranoid side of me. Any small breath I felt would ruin the results and I'd be forced to start the whole process over. I was grateful to see Dr. Andrews face when he came to tell me the MRI was over and I was free to move. He told me another two days would be required for the readings, and we scheduled an appointment for Monday.

I had Michelle go with me Monday to the results. My mood was still pretty shaky. One moment I would be okay, and the next I would be sick with grief over everything. The thing that bothered me the most-that I obsessed over-was that I couldn't talk to Justin. For the entirety of our relationship, there was not a day that I didn't speak to him in some way, shape or form. And suddenly it wasn't an option anymore. I wanted to know what was going on. I wanted to know how he was or how the gym was coming along. I wanted to know, and the fact that I couldn't drove me insane. And did he want to know about me? Had anyone told him about my knee? Has he been keeping in touch with Michelle? All of these questions burned in my mind. Michelle did her best to distract me. Ever since our impromptu sleepover she has been in the house, driven me places, played board games with me, cooked my meals. I appreciated her efforts, but late at night when she was asleep in the other room and I was alone with my thoughts, I couldn't help but let my mind wonder. Many a night I cried myself to sleep quietly, praying to God for the strength I desperately needed. I felt so hurt and abandoned, and I didn't understand what this was supposed to mean in my life. A broken heart and a broken knee? Surely God wouldn't let it happen. But he had, and now I had to figure out why I was being put in this situation.

I still blamed myself for my knee. I replayed the pain over and over again, reliving the shift, the pop, the fall, the scream, everything. It kept me from a sound sleep. I woke up every night for the past couple days in a cold sweat, grabbing my knee as if making sure it was still there and a scream stuck in my throat, coming out only in a whimper. Any sleep I got was from pure exhaustion.

Michelle and I sat in the examination room, talking quietly while we waited for Dr. Andrews.

"It could be okay." Michelle said suddenly with a hint of optimism hanging in her statement.

I looked at her, trying to keep the skepticism off of my face.

"Maybe, the doctor got it wrong," she continues "and it's just a really bad sprain or something."

This time I couldn't keep the skeptical look buried and ended up looking at her as if she had just suggested we cut my leg off at the knee.

"Okay, granted it would be a really, _really_, extremely bad sprain, but it could happen." Michelle insists.

I shake my head, laughing at her slightly.

"I appreciate your positive outlook, Michelle, but the doctor said it was pretty much certain." I remind her, causing her to sigh.

"You never know." She says stubbornly, and I humor her with a nod.

"I applied for a job this morning." She adds, swinging her long tone legs back and forth from her seat next to me on the examination table. This time I don't hide my surprise.

"Really? Where at?"

"The tanning salon. On South Main, down near the grocery store." Michelle said with a slight crinkle in her nose. A gesture of disgust. She hates indoor tanning, always preferring to tan naturally while we play. By the end of our season, we look like we've walked straight out of an advertisement for a vacation in California. With that knowledge in mind, I'm confused as to why she chose that job, not to mention it was almost out of her way.

"Why there?" I question, curiosity dripping from the words. I couldn't help it. It made no sense.

I saw a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes, and she hesitated telling me. But with my gaze not moving and her knowing how I would eventually find out, she caved.

"You cannot laugh at me. Promise?"

"I promise." I assure her, holding my hand up in a girl scout gesture.

She shakes her head, suppressing a laugh, before continuing.

"I applied there because it is close to the therapy center you were planning on going to for recovery after your surgery, California Physical Therapy. _If_ you have to have surgery, that is." She said quietly.

I let her words sink in, trying to see her logic in selecting that location. Why would that matter? Being close to the therapy center? But then it hit me. She wanted to be close to where I would be, in case I needed her. She wanted to make sure I would be okay and that she'd be close enough to reach me in an emergency.

I felt my heart lighten at the idea. She was going to work somewhere she didn't like just so she could be there for me. She was more than just my friend. She was more of a sister to me. I looked at her with the goofiest smile, and she looks away in embarrassment.

"Stop looking at me like that!" she muttered, still avoiding my gaze.

"Aw, Michelle! I love you!" I exclaimed, wrapping my arms around her in a huge hug. She fought against the hold, pretending to choke from the grip I had.

"Alright, alright! I love you too! Now, get off of me." She laughs, finally detaching me from her. I sit in a kind of daze, smiling widely at the idea of Michelle's plan, when I was struck by a thought. Nudging her slightly, I chuckled.

"I guess the car wash is unnecessary, then?"

Her laughter served as the perfect response.

"Oh, we are definitely doing the car wash! If only to see you limping around." Michelle laughs, earning another push from me.

"That's not fair though. If I'm still in a brace I call dibs on holding the sign by the road." I insist, sticking my tongue out at her as she started to complain.

We joked further with setting up the "plans" to have our car wash, which we lovingly dubbed "Athletes Create Love Fund", or the ACL Fund for short. We had even gotten to picking uniforms for the event when Dr. Andrews finally showed up.

He wasted no time at all and started to look at the results, confirming that the ACL was torn and showing how he could tell from the MRI images.

"So does this mean I will need surgery?" I question. I have heard of some people tearing their ACL and not needing surgery. I didn't know if my circumstances would lead to different results, but I wanted to be informed before I went under the knife.

The Doctor gave a curt nod as he spoke. "I believe surgery would be the best. With your sport, you would benefit from having it repaired."

"So what are my options?"

"With these surgeries, we have three options. The Hamstring graft, the cadaver graft, and the Patella Tendon graft. The differences are where we get your substitute ACL. The Hamstring graft is exactly what it sounds like; we'd take a cord of your Hamstring muscle and use that for your ACL. The only problem with that is it will weaken your Hamstring, and you could have a longer recovery."

"Then that one is out." Michelle interjects, to which the Doctor nods in agreement.

"Then there is the cadaver graft."

"Cadaver?" I question, as I am unfamiliar with the word.

"It means we'd take a Patella from one of the frozen donors that have given their body to the hospital and use it in place of yours" he explains.

"You mean…like a dead person?" Michelle asks, the horror in her voice clearly evident.

"Yes, that is what a cadaver is. The problem with that is it will be significantly weaker and more prone to tear, so I think that one is also out of the question, leaving the Patella graft. In this one, we will use your Patella Tendon in your knee, which is the tendon that connects your kneecap to your shin bone. You can do fine with it moving to the ACL's position. Only problem is you might experience pains or aches in your knee even after recovery, but it is stronger and in the long run most athletes choose this method in reconstruction."

"Let's go with that one. When can I have the surgery?"

Dr. Andrews flips through his chart, which I assume is showing him some sort of calendar as well.

"Your swelling has gone down and the sooner the better, in my opinion. If you wait, it will only deteriorate over time. And you'll put yourself at risk for further damage. Speaking of which, there looks to be a tear in your Meniscus, the tissue between your bone and kneecap, which I will need to fix as well. But if you are open to it, I'd say we could have your surgery scheduled for Friday of this week."

I nod, looking at Michelle for her opinion. She shrugs.

"If it needs to be done, there's no reason why you should wait." She points out.

I take a deep breath and look back at the Doctor.

"Well, let's do this."

**xxxx **

Friday morning came all too soon. I had my appointment scheduled for 7:30 a.m., the first one of the day. Michelle had to drive me to the hospital, seeing as I wouldn't be able to drive with all of the meds they would soon be pumping into my body. She let me out at the front so she could park and I half walked, half crutched (I had started walking short distances without the crutches, much to Michelle's dismay. I hated the stupid things and was looking for any excuse not to use them.) my way through the doors to the front desk.

The lady up front looked way too cheerful for the early morning shift. I had literally rolled out of bed and threw on sweats with my dark hair piled up on top of my head, and this woman looked as if she had walked out of a magazine for a nursing school with her hair slicked back in a sleek ponytail and her scrubs a bright pink shade.

"Good morning! How may I help you?" she asked, her voice carrying as if she was absolutely thrilled to be there.

"Um, hi. I'm Evangeline Parker. I have a surgery appointment with Dr. Andrews." I said as Michelle walked through the doors and came to join me.

"Oh yes! Right this way Ms. Parker." She said cheerfully, pivoting on her heel and prancing down the hallway. Michelle and I exchanged a look before following her. I really hope she wasn't going to be with us all morning. I had respect for morning people, but this was ridiculous.

"Here you are! Go ahead and change into your gown and Dr. Andrews will be with you shortly." The woman smiled, strapping a hospital identification band around my wrist and walking back to the front desk. The minute the door of my room closed, Michelle started up.

"Well someone is in a chipper mood." She muttered under her breath, making me laugh slightly.

"She was so hyper. Does she know what time it is?"

As I changed, I realized just how nervous I was. This was my first surgery. I didn't really know what to expect. What if something went wrong and I lost function in my knee? What if in my recovery process I ended up tearing it again? How much pain was I going to be in?

Even though Michelle's face lacked any emotion, I knew she was nervous too. She had barely spoken all morning. She was just as freaked out as I was, though she'd never admit it.

I finished changing into the awkward close-in-the-back gown and put my clothes under the bed, careful not to flash Michelle in the process. I slipped under the covers and we waited. Nurses came in, each one of them asking me what I was having done today to verify that they were prepping the correct patient. Before I knew it, Dr. Andrews was in there, dressed in scrubs and looking ready to go. He spoke with me briefly, marked an "x" on my knee to make sure they cut into the one that needed repairing, and left, saying my surgery would be in about 15 minutes.

"You ready?" Michelle asked after the nurses had put the IV into my hand. I shrugged nonchalantly, though the gesture came off as tense.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"It will be just fine. I'm sure it will be over before you know it." She assured me, giving me the slightest of smiles.

Looking at her smile, I was suddenly struck by how empty the room was. It was only Michelle with me. She was my best friend, and it felt great to have her here, but a part of me wished…no. I stopped the thought before it began. I couldn't want him to be here. He made it clear he didn't want to be with me, so I should listen to my head for one minute and not allow him to creep back into my mind. Michelle was right. I had to focus on me.

A knock at the door signaled the arrival of a nurse, informing me that they were ready for me. Michelle was ushered to the waiting room while they wheeled my bed, or I guess technically it was a gurney, down the hall and to the OR.

They covered me with blankets when I passed the double doors, and I was thankful for it. The room was freezing. Two nurses helped me slide from the gurney to the table, covering me again with the exception of my knee. A woman with a mask on leaned over me and spoke to me in a kind voice, telling me to count down to 0 starting at 100 as they put the anesthesia into my IV.

I didn't make it to 97 before I lose consciousness.

**xxxx**

**John's Point of View**

It was finally Friday. My day off had been better than I first thought it would be. I caught up on all of my paper work within two hours, and spent the rest of the day running errands. I missed the hustle and bustle of the Center, but a change in routine from time to time wasn't so bad. I could get use to a little down time. The Center was open every day but Sunday, so I didn't get many days to do stuff around the house. I was grateful for it, but ready to go back to work in the morning.

At about 7 o'clock at night Stephen had called, making sure I remembered we had agreed on hitting up the bar tonight. In all honesty I had hoped he had forgotten, but no such luck. His mind was a steel trap and remembered everything. So at the current moment I was getting dressed more appropriately for the bar. Ste had suggested we carpooled, and he was coming to meet me at my apartment at 9. It was 8:45 now.

I sighed as I buttoned my shirt. I felt so far out of my comfort zone. I don't get "dressed up". Ever. I had no reason too. Every day I wore slacks and a polo with the Center's logo on it, and on Sundays when I wasn't at church I was wearing gym shorts and a tee shirt. That was practically all I've worn for the last few years of my life. So when Ste suggested jeans and a button up shirt, I felt completely uncomfortable.

Geez, I sound like a girl.

Figuring the outfit would do, I went to wait for Stephen to show his big, burly Irish self. He showed up right on time and I walked out to meet him, locking my door behind me.

"What's up, John. You ready?"

The excitement in his voice was obvious. I struggled to restrain myself from rolling my eyes.

"Let's go before I change my mind."

Ste had told me he knew of a new bar not too far from here, called He's Not Here. When I mentioned that it sounded kind of sketchy, he assured me he had already checked it out and it wasn't a dive like the name made it out to be. I have to admit though; it is a pretty great name.

We pulled up around 9:30, giving us plenty of time to drink without getting too wasted to call a cab. We weren't planning on drinking too heavily as it is, since we both have to be at work around 10 tomorrow morning.

The place wasn't packed, which I was grateful for. Only a few couples, some men playing pool, some loners around the bar, and a group of women rocking out to the old school jukebox in the corner of the room. The place had a feeling of home, very relaxed and chilled. I could already tell I would like it here.

"Let's get a beer." Ste says, heading straight to the bar and ordering us drinks, on him as he insisted. We sat and chilled for a while against the bar, talking about work and any new patients coming up. I listened as Ste started down the list, information we get every Friday.

"We had a few additions for next week. There's a man, early 60s, who fell off a ladder while cleaning his gutters and broke his arm. Then, a high school lass who got in a car accident and messed up her shoulder pretty bad. I heard there's also a woman in her 40s who just broke her leg and will be coming to work. Last but not least there's a lass, professional volleyball I think, who just had ACL reconstruction this morning."

I nod my head, looking forward to taking one of them on as my patient.

Ste was entranced by the two girls a few feet away, sitting at a table and glancing our way every now and then. He looked at me, his eyebrow cocked.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I questioned, taking another sip of my drink.

"Which one do you want?"

"Ste, it isn't like we are picking out steaks." I shot back.

"I'm not saying that! But if you had to choose?" he countered.

I sighed, looking in their direction and landing on a brunette.

"Girl on the left I guess."

"Well, let's go talk. See what happens." Stephen suggests as he leads me to the table. We introduce ourselves and strike up a conversation. He slid easily into conversation, his charm kicking in right off the bat. I on the other hand stuck out like a sore thumb. I chatted some with the brunette, whose name I learned to be Nicole, but a silence started to form, both of us resorting to quietly sipping our drinks and listening to the other two chat. I eventually excused myself, going to the bar to get another beer.

"One please." I said to the bar tender, who pulled out the bottle and handed it to me. I sipped it, feeling the cool liquid refresh me, as I glanced around the bar. Stephen looked quite cozy with the girls, so I figured I could stay where I was for a little longer. I ended up listening to the phone conversation of the guy next to me.

"Yeah, I don't know what I did…no it only hurts when I'm lifting heavier boxes…no I can't take time off. I need to get the gym up and running."

I glanced at the man next to me, who looked to be the same age or younger. His face held a grimace, his free hand rubbing his shoulder.

"I'll get it checked out soon, if it doesn't get any better. I can't very well go around with a hurt shoulder at the gym…yeah, I will. Okay. Bye."

The man hung up and rubbed his neck, obviously frustrated.

I couldn't resist the urge to help.

"Hey man, you say your shoulder is hurting?"

He looked me over, skeptical. Or maybe it was the booze. He had a few empty glasses in front of him and the brown-eyed man had a glazed-over look.

"Yeah, hurt it moving boxes." He said, his accent coming through. What kind of accent was that?

"I'm a physical therapist, so maybe I can help. Any pops?" I questioned.

He sat up at my profession, thinking hard to how he messed his shoulder up.

"Uh, no. It just was a sharp pain."

"Hmmm, sounds like you just pulled it to me. Try to ice it every night and every morning, and see if that helps any. If not, I'd listen to your buddy on the phone and get it checked out." I said, leaning back against the bar as I took another swig of beer.

"Thanks." He said. "I'm Justin by the way. Justin Gabriel." He extended his hand, which I shook.

"John Cena."

"So John, what brings you here?" he questioned, swirling his drink in the glass.

"That chunk of Irishman over there. He's my friend Stephen, and he decided I needed a woman."

He looked at Stephen and the girls and then back at me, chuckling.

"Then why aren't you over there?" he asked.

"Because I suck at small talk." I answered with disgust, causing him to laugh.

"Well keep trying. It'll pay off."

"You know that from experience?" I inquire, glancing at him. His gaze softened, lost in his thoughts for a moment, before answering. "I did. I was engaged."

I wasn't expecting that answer. Once I was over the shock, I allowed myself to further question him.

"Was? What happened? If you don't mind me asking."

He sighed, swallowing a mouthful of his drink before continuing.

"I changed. She was a great girl, and deserved way better than me, but we fell in love. And then I fell out of it. I broke it off."

Well that explains the amount of drinks he had in front of him. On closer inspection, even in the dim light you could see he was a wreck. Glancing at the table, I noticed Ste and the girls were still engrossed in conversation. I still had time to talk

"You seem to be taking it pretty hard." I commented.

"Yeah, well, I know I had to do it. It was the right thing to do. I'm sure it's worse for her. I never thought I'd have to hurt her like this. But what else could I do? Drag it on? No, that would have been worse." He said, before adding, "She deserves better than that. She really does."

He downed the rest of his drink and placed the glass on the counter.

"How do you know when you find the right one?" I question, suddenly enthralled by this guy's story. "How do you know you've finally found the best match for you?"

"I'd tell you if I could. I thought I had it, but obviously I was wrong. I guess…you'll know when you are no longer able to hurt them. I mean, if you love someone, you don't let them go, that's for sure."

I let his words sink in as he pulled out his wallet, throwing his money on the bar and standing up, rather wobbly I might add. He was in no shape to drive.

"You need someone to call you a cab?" I questioned.

"Already covered. Thanks though. And thanks for the advice, on the shoulder I mean."

"No problem. Thank you for the advice, on life I mean." I responded, evoking a small grin from the man.

"Anytime. See you around, John."

"You too, man. Be safe."

I watched him walk out, making sure he got into the first cab he saw. Once I had finished my beer, I walked back to the table, joining the conversation once more until it was time to leave, I without a number and Stephen with two.

Boy, did I need some practice.

**Hope you all enjoyed this one! Reviews are very much welcome!**

**Much love,**

**Meg**


	7. Chapter 7

**My spring break is this week, so I plan on getting at least another chapter up during the week. Here's hoping I can stick to that promise. **

**Thank you all for reviews! This is going to be a good chapter, I feel. It is the first meeting of John and Evan. Excited? I know I am. Might be a little slow in the beginning but I think it will catch up a little later into it.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own only the plot and OCs. No profit gained or harm meant by the creation of this story.**

I took a deep breath as I looked out the window, watching the cars pass with a glimpse of the sunrise in the distance. It was early, ten minutes before 7 o'clock. I was fine with mornings. Sure, I loved my sleep, but an early morning wouldn't ruin my mood. Michelle on the other hand was ranting in the driver's seat.

"I mean, really. Who is going to be up and tanning at 7 a.m.? It is ridiculous!"

"Maybe some people like to get up early and tan before work." I suggest, catching the sideways glance of disbelief she throws in my direction.

"That makes no sense to me. No sense at all." She scoffs. I can't help but laugh a little. After accepting the job at the tanning salon, she was told her shift would be the earliest. 7 a.m. until noon, five hours in total. She was being paid rather generously, so she took the job despite the early hours. Now, it would seem she was regretting her decision. She shifted in the seat, her new uniform consisting of a green tank and black shorts standing out against her tan skin. She had thrown her hair up in a bun at the last minute, fed up with the whole process of getting ready in the wee hours of the morning.

I was thoroughly amused by her rants. She hadn't let up on the absurdity of the situation since we left my house. I was expecting an ear-full of complaints by the time I left for the Therapy Center.

My scheduled appointment was 10 a.m., and California Physical Therapy was just down the road and in walking distance. I figured I'd tag along to her work so she wouldn't have to drive back to my house to get me. It was the least I could do since she was taking this job for me. I wouldn't be able to work for about 2 more weeks, or so my doctor says. I had applied at jobs all around the Physical Therapist Center, including the tanning salon. My personal preference was the smoothie place just down the block. I had already alerted Michelle to the job, but she felt to quit the tanning salon so soon would make her look bad to potential employers, no matter how much she hated it. It's already been one week since my surgery and in that week I have done nothing but sat around and sulked. I literally could not do anything. I couldn't take a shower for the first five days. I could only make short distances on crutches up until yesterday (which I was beyond ecstatic about. Michelle allowed me to go with her to the grocery store, and I crutched circles around the aisles until it was time to go.) and now that I was feeling more comfortable with them, I was getting faster. But it was still too slow for my liking.

Not to mention my mood had dropped significantly. When you're injured you have a lot of time to sit and think. Over thinking has always been a bad habit of mine. Despite the conversation Michelle and I had the night Justin left and I hurt my knee, I have slowly been backsliding into a more cynical state of mind. I was tired, and fed up, and ultimately slightly depressed, though I did my best not to show it when Michelle was around. I just could not stop hoping Justin would come back into my life, no matter how many times I told myself it wasn't going to happen. He was gone. But he left memories. Memories I used to love recalling now plagued my mind and heart, to where I had a constant ache in my chest. It was still so fresh in my head. I could remember every word from that night, having gone through it on so many occasions and picking apart anything that I felt could signal something bigger than what I already knew. The analytical side of me was fighting to get out every last detail, as if interrogating my heart. My poor heart couldn't take it a lot of the time, and I'd end up getting emotional, only to repeat the process later. It was a horrible cycle, but I couldn't escape from it. As a result, I've become quieter, less cheerful, and certainly more irritable. The injury was slowly turning into the biggest irritant in my life. But at least I had something to fix. Therapy would hopefully keep me busy and take my mind off of everything.

Michelle pulled up to the tanning salon and my eyes widened happily at the sign in the window that announced there was also a Starbucks inside. Michelle mimicked my surprise, both her and I being pretty fond of the delicious coffee drinks. Maybe waiting around for therapy wouldn't be so bad after all.

**xxxx**

(John's POV)

My truck was first to pull into the California Physical Therapy Center parking lot at 8 a.m. and I parked in my usual spot at the end of the lot. Ste always teased me about my strict time schedules. "_First to arrive and last to leave"_ he would mock, always rolling into work at the last possible minute to insure maximum sleep intake. I didn't work that way though. I couldn't help myself. I loved being here early. It felt wrong to not be here early. And then leaving late just became a habit as well. I didn't enjoy leaving the Center when I felt I still had work to do, or if someone else was still working. It wasn't a competition, but it made me feel as if I could do something more, as if I would be slacking if I left before everyone else. Call it a character flaw, but I saw it as dedication.

I pulled out the key to the front doors, something a few of the early bird employees had been given so they could open the Center if they were first to arrive, and managed to slip it into the lock and turn the latch without any effort. The cool metal of the door was refreshing as I pushed against it and let myself inside.

The training room stood in silent anticipation for the day's patients and I found the early morning light that fell through the windows to only add to the feeling of potential. This was a space where things happened, good things, and I could almost feel that energy rush through my veins at the very thought of it. I was ready for this work day to begin.

I took the steps up to the second floor in twos, making my way down the sparsely decorated hallway and walking into my office. The stacks of paperwork sat ready to be delved into on the top of my desk and I made a mental note to get started on it if my work load was low today. As my eyes scanned the dark mahogany wood, they landed on a new object. A crisp new black folder was laid on the edge of the desk, the logo of the Center branded on the front. A new patient.

Pulling my swivel chair forward and leaning back into the plush seat, I plucked the folder from the desk and opened it, reading the name printed at the top.

_Evangeline Parker_

_Female, 23_

_Professional Athlete-Beach Volleyball _

_Right knee-ACL Reconstruction and Meniscus repair_

So Ste was right, I thought to myself. A beach volleyball player, just like he said at the bar. My mind worked quickly on creating an exercise plan. Depending on how the knee and the muscles around the knee looked we could get started with some strengthening while the range of motion would be something to progress with. I gently rotated the chair from side to side with the tip of my shoe, jotting down exercises on a notepad.

As I worked on formulating plan I could hear people beginning to mill into the Center. A quick glance at the window that allowed my office to overlook the floor alerted me to a handful of other employees setting up stations for the fast approaching appointments. Glancing at the clock, I stood and stretched, suddenly aware of the tension in my back from sitting so long. What I though took two minutes actually took about an hour and a half. The clock now read 9:30. The file said Ms. Parker was scheduled for 10. I had 30 minutes to prepare. Taking the notepad and file with me, I head back down to the training floor, intending to claim a work station before the appointments started.

**xxxx**

(Evangeline's Point of View)

At 9:30 I was ready to leave. The Center was barely a ten minute walk, but I wanted to make sure I had plenty of time. Paperwork could end up pushing that start time back, so I wanted to go ahead and get it out of the way. I pulled myself up on the crutches without too much trouble, tugging my black tee shirt down over the loose pair of gym shorts that hung low on my hips. Michelle watched me out of the corner of her eye as she spoke with a customer, setting up which bed the woman could use. As I made my way over to her, she glanced at the clock above the door. She knew I'd have to leave soon.

"I want to walk you there." She stated as the lady went back to her assigned room. She wrote down the woman's name and time in the appointment book before sticking the pen behind her ear. Leaning back against the counter, she looked up to meet my eyes while awaiting my response.

"You seem pretty busy here."

"I can take a break to walk you." She insists.

"Is that really a good idea when you've just started working here?" I question.

"You are my best friend, practically blood-related. You are on crutches and going to have walk to the Therapy Center down the street. You are not going by yourself." She countered, her protectiveness shining through.

I sighed. With that tone, I didn't stand a chance.

"Well go on and tell your boss. I'm ready to get going."

"Back in a flash." She says in triumph, smirking from her victory as she vanished to the back of the building to find her manager. In less than a minute, we were outside of the salon and heading towards the Center.

"You nervous?" Michelle asked as we moved down the sidewalk towards our destination.

"Not really. Just anxious. I'm ready to get started." I answer truthfully. I wasn't afraid. I wanted to start recovering. The process was going to take forever as it is. Once I started, I would be progressing and finally be out of this stand still I've been in.

Michelle nods silently, understanding my willingness to start.

"Well, don't push yourself too hard. If you feel pain, tell them."

"I will."

Michelle glances at me with a scrutinizing gaze. "I'm serious E. I know how you push through pain. I know these therapy sessions might be intense, but if you feel any strong pain that you know you shouldn't be feeling you better speak up. Otherwise, you could do more harm than good."

"I will stop if it gets bad." I promise, smiling slightly to verify my understanding.

She gives a curt nod and we continue walking the rest of the way with a comfortable silence between us.

She holds the door open to the Center, and I feel the cool air immediately wrap around my skin as I make my way through the door. The lady at the front desk smiles widely at me, and I find it to be infectious as I return the smile.

"Hi there! Is this your first time at California Physical Therapy?" she asks as she glances from me to Michelle.

I nod, readjusting my crutches to where both were situated against the desk, my arms resting on the counter to hold myself up. "Yes ma'am. I have an appointment at 10."

"Name?"

"Evangeline Parker."

She types on her computer before looking back at me.

"Ah yes. Welcome Ms. Parker. If you would just fill out this form for our medical records and have a seat over there someone will be with you shortly." She said as she pointed to the wall with chairs.

I turned to Michelle with a smile.

"Thanks for walking me. I think I got it from here. I'll text you when I head back to the salon if I get out before your shift ends. If not, you'll pick me up here?"

"That's the plan. Have fun." She says with a hint of sarcasm in her voice, and I roll my eyes at her as she heads back to the door.

I fill out the paperwork and crutch over to the chairs, sitting down on the chair closest to the door.

As I waited, I let my eyes wander around the place. The area I was in was certainly just meant for waiting and check-in. To my right, there were two large glass doors that opened into a massive space. From where I sat I could see exercise equipment and a relatively large number of people, perhaps 15, moving throughout the space. So this was going to be my home for the next 9 months of my life. Better learn to love it, I suppose.

The magazines set out on the small tables between the chairs caught my attention and I picked up the celebrity magazine full of gossip to flip through and kill the waiting time.

"Evangeline?"

I look up at the sound of my name, tucking a strand of brown hair behind my ear as I locate the source of the voice. My eyes land on a large man, both in height and build, leaning around one of the glass doors. His blue eyes shined with a determination that was familiar, mirroring my own as well as Michelle's. His warm smile revealed dimples in his face that gave him a very friendly feel. I smile as I stand, using the crutches to walk towards him.

"That's me. Call me Evan."

He held the door open as I passed through, making sure I was completely through before closing the glass behind me.

"My name is John Cena. I will be working with you." He stated calmly, and I found I liked his voice. It was such a smooth sound. It was nice.

"To get started, how about we go to one of the examination rooms and see what we have to work with?" He led me to a room closed off from the main training area, instructing me to lie down on the padded table. I managed to hop up without too much effort, stretching my leg out so he could take a look at it. He began taking measurements on my knee and the muscles around it and we began to talk.

"So how did this happen?" he questioned, wrapping a tape measure around my thigh to measure my leg's muscle mass as compared to the other.

I fought to keep the grimace off of my face. I had relived that night so many times, but it still was hard for me to talk about, both for the injury and the emotions that led to the injury. I pushed the thought away and recounted the event.

"A jump serve gone wrong. I landed awkwardly after I had strained it earlier that day."

John nods, and I watch him move around the room as he gathered information. I couldn't help but admire his build. He was very well built, with wide shoulders and a stout chest, large arms and legs, all of which the khaki shorts and light blue polo emphasized. I've always been attracted to the athletic type. This man screamed it.

"I've had my fair share of injuries through the years. I know it will be a struggle, but we'll have you back on that court in no time." He says confidently, giving me a wide grin.

I smiled back, deciding I already trusted this man with the process of recovery. He just seemed so genuine and determined.

His hands moved gently to remove the large white bandage from my knee. The staples holding the incision together was glaringly ugly, but he didn't seemed phased at all. He moved with such care and knowledge around the knee, being careful of the tender areas as he probed the muscles and joint with his fingertips. He tested the range of motion as well as the muscles, especially my quad and hamstring. After words, he gently massaged the muscles. I could feel the tension seeping out of the muscles around my knee and couldn't help letting my eye close at his touch. It's been a while since I've felt so relaxed.

"So you play volleyball?" he asks, keeping up the light conversation between us.

"Yeah. Beach volleyball." I mumbled, my voice soft and sleepy from the massaging. My mood did not go unnoticed my John who chuckled under his breath.

"Hey now. You can't be sleeping on me. We've got to get you moving in a minute." He teases.

I laugh softly, placing my hands behind my head and forcing my eyes to open.

"Much better. Up and at 'em." He says with a grin.

"So how long have you been a therapist?" I question, attempting to focus on his face as opposed to drifting off.

"About 2 years." He answered, and I calculated his age in my head. 25.

"You must have worked your butt off in school." I say absent-mindedly which caused him to laugh unexpectedly.

"Yeah, med school isn't the easiest thing in the world. But it's what I wanted to do. I wanted to help people. How about you? You must be a pretty awesome volleyball player to be pro."

I shrug nonchalantly.

"Eh, I'm decent. I have areas that could use some improvement. And anyways, I'm going to have to start over now." I remark, a note of sadness in my voice. As much as I wished I would just wake up one day and be completely healed, I knew I had a long road ahead of me.

"Hey," John said, stopping his massaging to look at me, "You will be on the court again in no time. I'm not going to lie to you. The recovery process sucks. But it gets easier, you get stronger, and before you know it, you'll be dominating that sand again."

I sat up slightly, looking him square in the eye. His gaze never faltered, and a feeling of tightness developed in my stomach. He wasn't just saying these things to cheer me up. He actually believed them. I could see it in his face that he wasn't going to give up on me.

"Well, let's get started then." I smile.

"That's the spirit! Grab your crutches and follow me. We'll set you up a work station."

I followed John out of the examination room to a section of low tables that looked like they were meant for lying on. He handed me a long exercise band, instructed me on the different exercises he wanted me to do. These were basic movements, wrapping the band around my foot and pointing my toes or pulling my toes upwards, tightening my quad muscles for seconds at a time. All of these were fundamentals that I would have to gain back in time. The hardest one was actually lifting my leg. They told me that after surgery my quad muscle would have to regain use, and not being able to lift my leg was evident of that. It was frustrating, but I was starting to get the hang of using my quad to lift my leg by the end of the reps. John had other patience to tend to, but he was always in earshot and he would check in from time to time, always encouraging me, asking if I felt pain. Honestly, I was just happy to be exercising period.

As I finished up the last reps, I looked up to find John sitting quietly to the side, watching me with a smile. A bag of ice rested in his hands, along with a piece of paper with all of the exercises I had done today.

"Looks like you're already ahead of the game." He comments as I prop myself up on my elbows, my chest rising and falling with each breath. I hadn't expected to work as hard as I did, but I'm glad for it.

"Yeah? How do you figure?" I question, wiping my brow. His smile just widened.

"I've worked with ACL patients before. You're the first I've worked with to get that quad muscle firing so quickly, not to mention being able to lift your leg that quickly." He says with a point to my knee. I smile, somewhat shocked. I thought I was behind, or average, not already progressing.

"Well…awesome."

John laughs at my choice of words, patting me on the shoulder.

"That's all I had planned for you for the day." He says as he places the ice on my knee. I make an involuntary sigh as the cold sinks into my skin.

"I've printed out the exercises I had you do today so you can repeat them at home. I want you to do them at least twice daily. Ice after finishing them, 20 minutes. When you're done with the ice here you are free to leave. Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time." I nod, taking the sheet from his outstretched hand.

"Awesome work today Evangeline." He says with a smirk.

"Evan." I correct sternly, though the smile gives away my lack of anger.

"Yeah, yeah." He says as he walks off, throwing up a wave as he goes to check on his other patients.

I lean back down, watching the clock and sighing contently. It had been a good first day.

**xxxx**

(John's Point of View)

I watched Evangeline out of the corner of my eye as I checked in with one of my other patients. She was walking pretty well on those crutches. She'd be off of them soon. Maybe I would have her move to one crutch before the week is out.

As I watched, she disposed of the ice bag and head out to the Center, a smile on her face. It was good to see a positive attitude like hers. So many people came in here with a hopeless gaze. Her willingness to work hard brightened up the place.

A low whistle behind me catches my attention, and I turn to look at Stephen. He shakes his head, chuckling softly.

"What?" I question.

"I saw that." He says matter-of-factly as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Saw what?"

"You were checking her out."

I met his gaze with a look of disbelief.

"Ste, I was not. She's on crutches. I was making sure she was okay as she walked out." I say in defending myself.

"Oh, so you didn't notice her athletic physic?" he says with a wriggle of his eyebrow.

"Of course I did…I mean, no…I mean," I struggle for words, feeling myself grasping at straws. "Can I not just watch a patient leave without you harping on me?"

He laughs at me, patting me on back.

"John, I saw that smile. You can't fool me."

I scoff, swatting the air as f to clear it of his insinuations.

"Whatever man. She's a patient. That's it."

"Sure." He concludes, chuckling to himself as he walked back to his patient.

She was a patient. An attractive, hard-working patient. That is it.

Right?

**I tried to make this longer, since I'm a little later than usually getting it up for y'all to read. Like I said, it is my spring break so I will be trying to get another one up in the next few days. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!**

**Much love,**

**Meg**


	8. Chapter 8

**So here is the next chapter. Hope the wait hasn't been too long.**

**Thanks for the reviews! They really drive me forward in this story, so I really do appreciate them.**

**So this chapter will be diving right back into the rehab and developing John and Evan's new found friendship. Hope you enjoy! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OCs and plot. No profit gained or harm meant by the creation of this story.**

I grunted from the burn in my quad muscle as I lifted my leg once more. Only three more lifts and I'd be done with the exercise. From the effects of the previous lifts, these last three were going to be the bane of my existence. At the moment it seemed more like 300 more lifts instead of the small amount I actually had.

One.

Two.

Three.

With the third one complete I sink into the workout table, taking large intakes of air. I hadn't realized I was holding my breath until the last rep was over. As I wiped the sweat from my face I smiled. It's been a week and I've already felt like I had accomplished something. I was getting stronger. Still, I had a long way to go. Reaching down, I removed the Velcro straps of the ankle weight, a mere five pounds but proof of my strength increasing as I had not started with any weights. Laying it beside me, I grabbed the water bottle from the floor next to the table and unscrewed the top lazily. Closing my eyes as I took a sip of water, I relished the sweet coolness of the liquid as it slid down my throat.

"You tired, Evangeline?"

I cracked one eye to see John's ever present figure approaching. His large smirk and cocked eyebrow made me laugh lightly, the sound invading the otherwise quiet space of the unusually empty training room. The room only held one other patient and therapist. I grinned as I let my head fall back with a sigh.

"Not a chance." I replied as I recapped the bottle and put it back on the floor, looking up at him with my head titled to the side.

John smiled fully at the response, happy to see my eagerness.

"Well then, how about a new exercise?" he asked with a clap of his hands.

My head straightened at the words. A new exercise? After a week of doing the same exercises, a change would be welcomed.

"Absolutely!" I say enthusiastically, sitting up a little straighter at the idea.

John turns a little away from me, gesturing me to follow him.

"Well, come on. Let's get you set up." He said with just as much eagerness. I could hear the excitement in his voice, feeding off of my own anticipation.

I snatched the single crutch off the ground and stuck in under my right arm. I was a little slower now with one crutch, but I could tell that since switching to one crutch I could bear more weight on my right leg so I wouldn't complain.

I followed John to the row of exercise bikes. He turned towards me and I'm sure he could see the questioning glance I sent him.

"So, today I want you to bike a mile."

"W-what?" I stuttered out, my eyes widening. A mile? I doubted I could even get my leg to complete one full rotation, let alone go a full mile. I could feel my heart beat faster at the challenge, my breath quickening.

His chuckle reached my ears, the deep tone of his laugh easing me somewhat from my panicked state. I looked at the curl in his lips and relaxed, knowing what words would soon fall from his mouth.

"I'm kidding," he admits, his hands going up in surrender, "You are not expected to go a mile on the bikes today. Instead, we are going to work on your range of motion."

I outwardly sigh, causing John to laugh even harder. "You really should have seen your face." He teases, widening his eyes in mock terror in his attempt to imitate me.

I swat his arm as I walk past him, carefully sitting down on one of the bikes and positioning my leg on the pedal. As I strap my foot into the pedal, John removes my crutch from my grasp and leans in against the wall behind me. Placing both feet on the pedals of the exercise bike, I look up at John expectantly.

"Alright, what do I do?"

He squats next to my right side and slowly guides my foot in the path of the bike's rotation. As it moves further along, going higher up on the wheel, the staples in my leg tighten. I still couldn't move my knee out and back completely without having the staples seem to lock up. The ache from the tightness caused me to hiss under my breath, though John heard it easily with how close he was positioned to me. Immediately he stops, holding the pedal still.

"When you feel that tugging from the staples, I want you to stop and switch directions."

He slowly reversed the movement of the pedal, going in the opposite direction. He went until the tightening in the staples once again appeared and stopped.

"You won't make it completely around today, and maybe not for a week or so, but you're just warming up the joint and getting it use to the motion again."

I nod my understanding, focusing on the motion as John releases his hold on the pedal and allows me to move on my own.

"You're going to do this for about 10 minutes, just back and forth. If you get tired, stop and take a break, but then get back to it. You good with that?"

"Yeah, I got this." I say confidently, breaking my focus to send John a sideways glance and smile. He smiled back, patting my arm.

"Alright. I'll be back. Work hard."

He stands up, moving away from me at a leisurely pace and starts to go through the process of cleaning the workout table I had been using. I watch him for a few seconds before turning back to the task at hand.

_Focus. Back and forth._

I moved the wheel as far as I could without hurting myself and then reversed the wheel, only going to the limits of my knee. I watched as the skin beneath the staples turned white with strain as I neared the stopping points of each rotation. It was frustrating to not be able to move the full circle, but I figured once the staples came out, it would only be a matter of time. The staples were set to be removed at the end of the week. It was only Tuesday now. I'd have to wait just a little longer.

"That has got to be the most boring exercise I have ever seen, Sticks."

The familiar voice makes me grin as I see Michelle walk over to where I sat, munching on an apple and looking at me skeptically. I shook my head at her as she stopped at the front of my bike, arms folded in front of her and resting on the handlebars. Sticks seemed to be her new nickname for me ever since I got the crutches, and I could still here he chuckle at her cleverness the first time she used it.

"There are ones worse than this." I assure her, continuing the exercise as I spoke.

She scoffed at the thought, taking another bite of her apple and wiping the juice from her chin as it escaped her lips. "You don't even go all the way around though. This must be a contender for the worst." She comments.

"Why aren't you at work?" I interrogated, laughing at her teasing.

"Because there are no appointments left for the day so they sent me home." She fired back, shrugging her indifference to the situation.

"So you came to bug me?" I joke, smiling sweetly up at her.

"I came to keep you company." She says with a hand going to her chest in false shock, "Do you not want me here?" He loud accusation caught the attention of John and the other trainer, a large red-headed man, who glanced at one another trying the figure out who the loud blonde woman was. John looks in my direction, a questioning gaze on his features. I smiled and waved it off, showing Michelle wasn't bothering me and he nods back.

Turning my eyes back to Michelle, I saw the fake pout on her lips. "I am always happy to see you." I insist, laughing as Michelle peered at me through narrowed eyes.

"That's what I thought."

I giggle as I look back to my knee, watching the slow movement of the bike. I was fascinated by the simple movement. The movement that I had taken for granted was now something I was thankful for and I looked forward to developing it further.

"So where is he?"

I glance up at Michelle with confusion, her eyes meeting mine impatiently.

"Who?"

"Mr. Trainer-dude that you always talk about." She answers matter-of-factly. She glances around the room at the only other occupants.

"He's the one wiping down the table over there." I say, nodding my head in his direction as the rest of her statement clicks in my head. "And I do not always talk about him." I say defensively.

"John said this. John said that. John, John, John." Michelle squeaks out in an obnoxiously high pitched voice. I lean forward and smack her leg with the back of my hand, causing a yelp from her.

"It's the truth E." she laughs, rubbing the now sore spot.

"Well, he's my physical therapist and I see him Monday through Friday. I'm bound to talk about him since he takes up a great deal of my time." I laugh, glancing over at the man in question. He has his back to me, finished with the cleaning and now moved on to filling out some charts. As if he senses my gaze he looks over his shoulder and meets my eyes. I smile slightly before breaking the line of vision and focusing back on the bike's movements.

Michelle grins madly at me and I compose myself, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"What are you smiling at?" I question.

"Oh, nothing," Michelle practically sings, "Just that you two are adorable."

I laugh at the statement, shaking my head at her in disbelief.

"Michelle, it's not like that."

"Oh, but it is." She says with a wicked smile.

I scoff at her, turning my attention back to my knee.

"It's natural to be attracted to someone E." Michelle comments, now much quieter than before. By her tone I know the conversation will now be a serious one.

"It hasn't even been a month." I state with an almost bitter voice. I was still feeling the pain in my chest. Therapy was always a time for me to escape that pain and to focus on something to fix. But the conversation was bringing back the memories that I had managed to forget at the moment.

"I'm not saying you should jump right back into the dating world," Michelle soothes, moving to the side of me, "I'm just pointing out that you are going to feel an attraction to others. Just because it is not Justin doesn't mean you can't like anyone else." She gently places a hand on my shoulder and smiles in an almost sad way, knowing how hard it has been for me. It seems that I haven't hid my feelings of sadness as well as I thought I had. Then again, it is Michelle. She knows me better than anyone.

"Let's not talk about him here." I practically whisper, my face contorted in pain at the sentence. I can't handle talking about Justin right now. Not in public. Not when my emotions were not yet under control.

"Okay." Michelle says softly, reassuring me with a smile before standing back up and moving to the handlebars once more.

I look up at the florescent lights above me, feeling the familiar burn of tears behind my eyes and knowing I couldn't show them here. All the while, I continued my biking,

Glancing back around the room, I catch John's eye across the floor. He looks worried, obviously seeing the change in emotion just a few minutes ago. I do my best to smile reassuringly, but even I can tell it wasn't convincing. John seems to understand though and smiles back, going back to the file.

"You do know you aren't making it completely around that cycle, don't you lass?"

While I was concentrating on my knee I hadn't noticed the large man moving towards me, but now I couldn't have missed him if I tried. His skin was pale and he had a shock of red hair. His accent gave him away as Irish, and while his size should have been intimidating, I could see he had a friendly disposition.

"Yes I noticed." I say as the man laughs, extending a large hand to me.

"I'm Stephen, but everyone calls me Ste." He says with a smile.

Taking the hand, I smile.

"Evan." I say before nodding to my teammate. "And this is Michelle."

"It's a pleasure meeting you." Michelle says as she extends her own hand.

"The pleasure is all mine." Stephen insists as his hands wraps around hers, a large grin gracing his features. If I hadn't have been watching Michelle closely, I would have missed the slight blush that bloomed on her cheeks for a moment and vanished the next.

"So Evan, why does John have you over here teetering on the bike?"

"To test her range of motion. You would've known that if you'd paid attention in med school." John jokes as he walks up, looking at the watch on his wrist. "You're done with the bike Evangeline." The comment to Ste earns him a small shove, which only makes John laugh.

"I know what it tests. I just wanted to see if she knew." Ste says defensively, crossing his arms over his wide chest as Michelle giggled.

Swing my legs carefully over to the side of the bike, I stretch my legs out in front of me and stand, using the bike as a support. I moved to grab my crutch and realized I couldn't reach it. I turn to face the group, John and Michelle exchanging introductions.

"Hey John, will you hand me that crutch?" I ask, pointing to the crutch he had moved to the wall.

"How about you try to get it?" John responds, a look in his eye that said he had planned me not reaching it. A grin ran across his lips as I stared at him.

I looked at him in disbelief before realizing what he wanted me to do.

"You mean…walk?"

The three people next to me smiled. Michelle's was by far the most nervous, but she believed I could do it. John was the picture of confidence.

"You're leg is much stronger. You are using that crutch well, but I can see your leg baring more and more weight. It's not going to fall apart if you take a few steps. Just give it a try." He assures me, stepping towards me.

I must have betrayed my uncertainty in my face, for he stepped up and gently took a hold of my arm right behind my elbow. "I'm right here. If you fall, I will catch you." He says in a more quiet tone. I met his eyes, seeing the sincerity in the brilliant shade of blue, and nod. I look back at the crutch and steel my nerves. It was maybe ten steps away from me.

_I can do this._

Taking a cautious step forward, I place my right foot on the ground, forcing myself to step as normally as possible. My leg felt heavy, and I could feel the muscles protest, but I managed to shift my wait and take another step. It was slow going and John stayed true to his word, taking every step with me along the way.

As I neared the crutch, I could feel myself becoming more confident in my walk. It was more of a limp, but it was without the help of a crutch and with little help from John, him only supplying the added security in case I did fall.

As I reach the crutch, I hear a squeal of delight from Michelle behind me, as well as a sound of approval from Ste.

John throws an arm around my shoulders and pulls me to his side, hugging me in excitement. I return it happily, laughing from the thrill of walking. The moment was so short, but even as he stepped back away from me, I could still feel his skin. Interestingly enough, I almost missed the touch.

"I knew you could do it!" John exclaims.

"Does this mean I can't call you Sticks anymore?" Michelle pipes up, making me burst out laughing. John and Step share a confused look, that makes Michelle join in the laughter with me.

"I guess you'll have to come up with another nickname Michelle." I joke, handing her the crutch.

She takes it from me and smiles mischievously. "I'll get started on that right away."

"Well, Evangeline, it seems you are done for the day," John states, placing a gently hand on my shoulder. As Ste and Michelle start a conversation, he leans forward for just me to hear.

"But if you're knee starts acting up, or walking starts to become painful, I want you to go back to one crutch alright? No need to hurt yourself if you're knee doesn't feel up to walking just yet." He says softly. I nod at the words, knowing he is right.

"I'll be careful." I assure him.

"That's what I like to hear," John smiles, "See you tomorrow."

I wave as Michelle loops her arm with mine, leading me slowly out of the Center while still holding the discarded crutch.

**xxxx**

(John's Point of View)

I watch Evangeline leave with her friend and couldn't help but feel proud of her. She's progressed a lot already, and she was a fighter. The way she calmed her nerves and tried spoke highly on her character. I admired that determination. The feeling swelled in my chest, to the point where I felt the familiar tug of caring. Which wasn't new. I always cared deeply for my patients. But this was different.

"Hey, Romeo. Stop staring." Ste jokes, slapping my on the back.

"You're one to talk. You were practically drooling over Michelle." I comment, smirking as I point out his attention to the blonde.

"What can I say?" Stephen says lazily, "She seemed like a nice girl."

I chuckle, winning the battle this time. But as I cleaned the bike and disposed of the towel, I realized what was different about the swell in my chest. I found I couldn't get the feeling of her against me in a hug out of my mind.

Must have been the adrenaline of the situation.

Or at least, that is what I told myself.

**Hope you all enjoyed this one. Please review.**

**Much love,**

**Meg**


	9. Chapter 9

**I apologize for the long wait in this update. I'd make excuses, but that would be really unfair to you, the readers. I will try my hardest to be at least more consistent with the updates. Four weeks until my summer vacation after all. I'm going to do my best to get the next chapter up this Easter weekend.**

**Thank you again for the kind reviews. If it wasn't for y'all reading and responding and alerting me, I don't know what I'd do. You truly inspire me to continue. **

**Anyways, enjoy the next part! **

**Disclaimer: I own only the OCs and the plot. No profit gained or harm meant by the creation of this story. **

xxx 3 months later xxx

I watched Michelle serve yet another ball, the object in question sailing smoothly to hit the sand on the other side of the court. With a huff, I lay back down in the grass dramatically and crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't have to look up to know Michelle gave me a look of annoyance.

"Can I _please_ play?" I ask for the nth time. The question sounded more desperate every time it was asked. Even as I spoke the words, I knew my partner's response. It would be the same answer every time I asked until John said I was cleared.

"No, E."

"But I feel fine!" I argue, my arms flailing about as I sat up, meeting the gaze of my long-time friend. Her determination shone clear in her eyes as she picked up another ball from the practice cart.

"Evan we've been over this. You aren't allowed to play until John medically clears you." She didn't bat an eye as she threw the volleyball in the air and smacked it over the net.

I groaned loudly. This had to be the most depressing feeling ever. It has been three and a half months after my surgery, and since the day I injured my knee I haven't touched a ball. Three and a half months. 14 weeks. 116 days. Before tearing my ACL, I barely went two days without touching a ball. This felt like an eternity compared to that. I knew going through a recovery time would be difficult, but this was getting ridiculous. My knee had its bad days, but I was walking fine. I could walk without the annoying brace and I didn't even have a limp. In my opinion, that had to count for something.

I glanced down at the limb that was preventing me from playing the sport that I loved. The quad muscle has shrunken down significantly. I was lacking somewhere around 3 inches from what my other leg was. It always shocked me at how quickly my quad muscle depleted. It seemed to disappear almost overnight. In comparison to my other leg, my right leg looked rather neglected. I hated how it looked, though Michelle did her best to assure me that it was not as noticeable as I thought.

I allowed myself to sink back into the grass, my body feeling as heavy as my mood. Closing my eyes to the sun above, I pouted. It was all so unfair. Why does this have to happen to me?

I felt a shadow fall across my face as Michelle stood over me.

"Are you just going to lie in the grass and sulk all day?"

I cracked open one eye to send the woman my best glare.

"It seems that is all I am allowed to do at the moment." I answer sarcastically.

"Oh come on, E! I'm only looking out for your best interests." She insisted, settling down beside me. I turn on my side to face her as she rested her arms lazily behind her head.

"I told you, my leg feels fine today. I wouldn't jump or anything. I just really want to pass the ball." I say eagerly. I'm unable to keep the hope from my voice and Michelle sighs sadly.

"I'm sorry, Evangeline." She spoke with a finality that I knew they would not

She used my full name. She wasn't going to budge on the matter.

"Stop calling me that. You know I hate it." I say with a roll of my eyes.

She cocks an eyebrow at me as she props herself up on the elbow. I look back at her with a perplexed expression. "What? Why are you looking at?"

"You let John call you Evangeline." She says with a smug grin.

I snort out a laugh. "I couldn't make John call me Evan or E if I tried. He does it to tease me."

"Yes, but you haven't killed him yet. If anyone else would have called you that you would have crushed them by now." She points out. She rolls to her stomach and rests her head on her hands. "You like him don't you?"

"Yeah, John is a great therapist." I say without denying it.

Michelle laughs, shaking her head. "That is not what I meant and you know it. You _like _him."

I open my mouth to protest, but no words come out. My jaw snaps shut with an audible pop and I look away.

"Your silence only emphasizes my point." Michelle teases.

"I-I can't like him, Michelle. He is a good guy, an awesome physical therapist, but that is all." I try to force the words, but my voice is much softer than I wished.

"You can like him. He's handsome, funny, and very passionate about his job. He also cares a great deal about helping you to recover."

I sit up and look off at the horizon line. Her words are true, and I wasn't going to even try to deny them. John and I have developed a close friendship through the last couple of months, to the point where I looked forward to the daily therapy sessions. The exercises were getting more difficult, and I times I felt I wouldn't be able to push through, but John…he was always there, pushing me to get through it all. His jokes kept my sides hurting from laughing so much and his words of encouragement kept me going when I felt like giving up. But I feared I was getting too attached. I was noticing things, things I haven't noticed at first. Like the small crinkle in the corner of his eye when he smiled. Or the way he could fill the room with his laugh. Or how his back muscles moved with such strength when he would move around, setting up equipment.

I forced myself to stop right there. Those were inappropriate thoughts about the man who was helping me recover. He was a professional, and I had to treat him as one.

"I can't like him Michelle. I'm technically his patient."

"So? Give it a couple of months and you won't be his patient anymore."

She has a point. But no, I wasn't going to think like that. John was my therapist, not a potential boyfriend.

"He probably doesn't think about me like that anyway." I mumble.

"Are you kidding?" Michelle snorts, grinning madly as she sat up. "He practically drools."

I push her, shaking my head. The insanity of that statement caused me to laugh aloud.

"That is not true."

"On the contrary," she giggles, "I've seen it. And Ste has seen it."

I smirk at her mischievously at the mention of the red-headed Irishman. "Speaking of Ste, how is he?"

Michelle's eyes widen, and I burst out laughing once more. She obviously didn't think I had noticed their flirting. She had accompanied me to therapy more often now, working around her schedule at the tanning salon. While John and I would focus on my knee, Ste and Michelle would be sitting in the corner chatting away. John frequently joked about the "budding romance" as he put it, and I couldn't help but agree when I saw the happy smile on Michelle's face anytime the large man was near.

"He's…he's fine." She stutters, seemingly at a loss for words, which only makes me laugh harder.

"I thought you two looked rather comfy at my therapy sessions. Has he asked you out yet?"

A pink blush burned through her cheeks at my words, but she shook her head no. I shrug, knowing he would soon enough. John said the man never stopped talking about Michelle. It was inevitable that at least a date would come of the flirting.

"Well, when he does I expect to be the first to know."

She punches my arm in an attempt to shut me up, though her hitting never really works.

"Stop changing the subject. We are talking about you and John here." She insists.

I sigh at her persistence. It really was hopeless.

"Michelle-"

"Don't try to lie to me E, you are a horrible liar." She warns, a smirk playing on her lips. "I know you feel something for the guy. I can see it in your face."

I silently cursed my lack of control over the emotions in my face as I found a blade of grass to be suddenly enthralling. She was right though. I didn't just notice John's physical attributions. I noticed his kindness. I noticed how dedicated he was to his work. I noticed his heart and how he put it into everything that he did. I admired him greatly, respected him highly, but I was beginning to think there was something more there, something that I couldn't name at the moment. But it's only been a few months since Justin.

And there his name was again. Even when I thought I could escape it, move on, the memories flood back in like poison in my veins. It still hurt, and I almost felt like admitting I was attracted to John was a betrayal. A betrayal to Justin, the man who left me. The thought alone was absurd, but I felt it just the same. It ate at me, the feeling, and told me I was worthless. And maybe I was. Maybe something was wrong with me. I may sound like a broken record, but if a man who I thought was the one didn't want me, why would anybody else?

Michelle must have noticed the darker look in my eye, for she had turned herself towards me and took my hand in hers. "E? What's wrong?"

The familiar sting of tears burned at my eyes, threatening to release the tears at any moment. I shook my head in a weak attempt to ignore the question.

Michelle took a breath, choosing her words carefully.

"Is this about Justin?"

"I don't want to talk about it." I say in a whisper, looking away from my friend.

"E, if you don't talk about it, it won't get any better." She pushes.

I remain silent, not allowing the words itching to be spoken to reach the surface. I was sick of being a burden, sick of feeling like the weakest link, and sick of talking about Justin when every word I said was the same as before. He wasn't worth my tears, yet I cried. He didn't deserve me, yet I missed him. I missed the good times at least.

"Evan, please." Michelle encouraged, rubbing gentle circles on the back of my hand with the pad of her thumb.

I looked at her, seeing the pleading in her eyes and felt my resolve to stay silent crumble under her gaze. I couldn't hold it from her. She knew me better than anyone. She would know if I lied.

"If he didn't want me…" I take a breath, willing my voice to be steady. "…why would anyone else?"

Michelle's face contorted into a pained expression as she reached up to grab my shoulder and pulled me into a tight embrace. I allowed my arms to wrap around her waist, returning the hug.

"You listen to me." She whispered in my ear. "You are fine. Someone is out there, searching for you. One guy's choice does not reflect on every man you meet. I promise, you will find a guy who wants you with every bit of his heart, and he will never make the mistake of letting you go."

Her words, soothing and calm, broke the last shred of control I had, and the tears flowed freely down my face. This time though, it was a relief. It felt as if a weight had been lifted from my chest. I felt lighter. I could breathe easier.

For the first time in a very long time, I truly felt things were going to get better.

**xxxx **

(John's POV)

I sat at my desk looking through different exercises for each of my patients this week, trying to decide what would work best for each case. Currently, I was looking over Evangeline's file.

She had made a lot of progress, but man she still had a lot to work on. Her quad muscle and the range of motion in her knee mostly. Her quad was significantly smaller, and though she could walk fine her leg was getting tired too quickly. I jot down a few weight training exercises, ones that would build that muscle and make it stronger, and start to think of exercises that would improve her range of motion.

"What are you working on?"

I didn't look up, recognizing that Irish accent anywhere.

"Trying to think of some workouts for Evangeline's range of motion." I state, my pen rapidly scratching ideas and thoughts on the page in front of me.

The larger man pushes off of the door frame on which he was leaning on and saunters over towards the desk.

"How did I know you'd be thinking of her?"

I glance up to see the wide grin on his face. Here we go. This seemed to be Ste's favorite subject.

"I guess the same way I know you're thinking of Michelle." I challenge, raising an eyebrow.

"So you admit you have some attraction for the lass?" he asks without missing a beat.

Okay, probably not the greatest comparison if I was trying to say I didn't think of Evangeline in that way. After all, he was getting pretty fond of Michelle. I rub my forehead to ease the headache forming. It seems every time this subject with Ste is brought up I get a headache.

"I can't Stephen."

"And why not?"

"She's a patient. It's not ethical for me to be involved with a patient." And that was true. I was supposed to be a professional. I couldn't get involved with someone under my care. That is taking advantage of the patient's trust, something I would never do.

"John, it's normal to feel attracted to a pretty girl." Ste insists, resting against my desk in a relaxed pose. He obviously had nothing better to do today that sit around and talk about my lack-luster love life.

I sighed, knowing I would have to talk about it before he left. I leaned back and looked him in the eye. Setting my jaw in determination, I began to try to make him see my side.

"Not when she is a patient."

"Well, what about when she is not?" he questions, his voice not teasing but sincere. He truly thought Evangeline was a good match of me. It was going to be harder to argue against it when he thought it was what's best for me.

"Well…I don't know." I answer honestly. I have never thought about it that way. After she is cleared, she is no longer my patient. She would be separate from my job. The thought of pursuing her then was tempting.

"You are not the only one feeling the attraction between you John. She is too. I'm surprised you haven't seen it in her face." Ste chuckles. I look away in frustration. This situation has gotten out of hand. Whether I liked it or not she was my patient, and it was wrong.

"It's just…I can't right now." I argue. I would be risking my job, and her reputation. She had to get back on her feet and in the game alone, not because of a therapist. I needed to keep a clear head around her so I didn't develop biased opinions. I couldn't have an attraction to her. I knew this was going to be a problem when I started watching her rather than her knee. I'm surprised she hasn't caught me staring. But she just held so much drive in her heart, something I have always admired. She was so full of determination to get better. I shook my head as my thoughts once again reached a grey area with Evangeline. I had to be more careful.

"Well, not right now. But give it time. See what happens." Ste says with a knowing look before giving me a wink. I roll my eyes at his antics as he laughs, finally leaving the office.

I was going to have to deal with these thoughts sooner or later. I was just hoping it was later.

**xxxx**

(Evangeline's POV)

I walked into the Therapy Center, a little more hesitant than normal. Michelle had kept on about the whole John thing. I'm not even sure what to think of it anymore. Right now, I was going to focus on my knee getting back to full health. Then, and only then, would I sit down and hash out what feelings, if any, I had for John.

Michelle had once again accompanied me. She looped her arm with mine as we walked in, practically pulling me along beside her. "Geez, are you in a hurry?" I joke. I knew she was excited to see Ste, though I doubt she'd ever admit it.

"As a matter of fact, I am. The sooner you get to work on your knee, the sooner you can admit your feelings for John." She said matter-of-factly. My jaw dropped at her accusation. I didn't know if I was more shocked that I had just thought the same thing or if I was shocked she was so sure of my feelings. Heck, I wasn't even sure of them myself. She laughed at my surprise and gently nudged me with her elbow.

"I would try to look less like a deer in headlights. It's not very becoming." She teases.

It's my turn to laugh as I pull away, looking around the room for John. I didn't see him, but I did see a large Irishman walking towards us, a grin set on his pale face. I looked over at Michelle with a smirk, watching her eyes light up at the sight of him. He caught her in a large hug as he greeted us, causing a slight blush to appear across her face.

"Hey Ste." I said with a slight wave. I was pulled into a side hug by the man as he returned the greeting, his other arm still around Michelle's waist. Her face shone with happiness at the gesture and I couldn't help but smile. Ste wore a matching expression to Michelle's and they both looked very at ease with one another.

"Where's John?" I asked, noticing I still didn't see him anywhere. Ste's chuckle brought my gaze back to him.

"He's taking a phone call. Some fellow he met a while back is having shoulder problems and might try to run by sometime today to get it checked out." Ste says nonchalantly.

I nod, glancing around to at the different equipment. I knew my basic warm up like the back of my hand by now. Stretch out, roll out with the foam rollers, and five minutes on the bike. I could easily get my leg around the bike by now, and the warm up was just enough to get my muscles ready for the day's work. I stole one more glance at the two next to me. They were already lost in a conversation.

"Well, I'm going to warm up." I say mostly to myself, since neither seems to realize I had spoken. Laughing lightly, I took off towards the mats.

(John's POV)

I could see Evangeline from my office window looking over the training room, and I smiled as the woman in question walked towards the mats to stretch. Even without me down there to direct her, she knew the routine. I've had plenty of patients stand around like lost puppies if I was taking a phone call or had a meeting to attend. It was good to see someone jump right in.

I watched as she stretched out, watching her muscles tense at the familiar burn of stretching. I tore my eyes away, trying to remind myself I was still on the phone.

"_So you think you can take a look at it?"_ the man on the other line asked. I had forgotten his accent since I last spoke with him a little over three months ago. He had told me his shoulder had seemed to be fine for a while, but now the pain had returned, this time with more intensity than before.

"Yeah, absolutely. I have a patient right now, but if you come in about an hour or so I could take a look at it for you. Like I said, I'm not a doctor, but I can tell you some exercises to help it out. But you really should see a doctor if it keeps bothering you." I say, my eyes falling back to Evangeline. I really should focus on the conversation, but she is technically my patient. I should be giving her my attention.

"_Great, I'll see you soon then John._"

"Alright, Justin. See you then." I conclude as I ended the call and headed down to meet Evangeline.

**Yes I know it's a cliff hanger, but I felt like it should stop here. Definitely about to hit some more drama in the story, so keep reading! Thank you again for putting up with my slow updates. Like I said, hopefully a new chapter up this weekend!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Finally in the double digits! I'm excited that this story has gotten some great feedback so far! Makes me feel better since this is my first story on this site. **

**Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter, and thanks for the story/author alerts as well! I appreciate any type of response. Whether it is the readers who review every chapter, or the silent readers who just enjoy the story, I think you are all awesome and I love that you are taking time out of your day to read my writing. I especially love when people reveiw on what they think will or should happen in the story, or how they responded to the developments, but I understand not reviewing as well. Still, whatever you do with this story, I thank you. (And that is the end of that random rant.)**

**A****s promised, here is the next chapter! It seemed to just pour out of me this time. I think I've been anticipating this part of the story. This one is full of some drama, so prepare. I hope you enjoy this one!**

**Disclaimer: As always, I own only the plot and OCs. No profit gained or harm meant by the creation of this story. **

I was just finishing my stretches when John made an appearance. He gave an apologetic look as he approached.

"Sorry, I had a phone call." He explained.

"No worries." I assured him, placing my hands on my hips as I turned towards him.

As he walked, I could see Michelle behind him, making faces behind his back. I snorted out a laugh before trying to cover it with a cough. My cover up didn't fool anyone. John glanced behind him quizzically to find Michelle and Ste deep in conversation, well, at least in appearances. The minute he turned his attention to me the faces continued, this time Ste jumping in as well. I tried to look anywhere but the two of them, but I found my eyes drifting back to the pair as they contorted their faces into hilarious shapes. I didn't even bother to hide my amusement this time. I laughed out loud, tears springing to my eyes and threatening to fall as I gasped for breath and help my sides. Poor John looked on with confusion, glancing at his appearance to see if anything was out of place which only caused me to laugh harder. Finding no reason for my laughing fit, he turned around once more, catching the two goof balls in the corner of the room.

"Real mature, guys." He chuckled, banishing any thought of him being mad at the pair.

I finally stop laughing, a smile planted on my face. It felt great to laugh like that. It's the first time in a long while that I laughed so hard, and I forgot how freeing it felt. John's eyes flashed, an emotion I couldn't identify passing through that beautiful blue. It was gone as quickly as it came, and he smiled widely as he motioned towards the mats.

"Let's get you started on the leg lifts."

I followed silently, my mind trying to figure out the man in front of me. Was I wrong? Was there something behind his eyes other than the friendship that I've insisted was all there was? I glanced at Michelle, seeing a knowing grin pull at the corners of her mouth. I turned back around as the blush spread across my cheeks. It was going to be harder than I thought to focus solely on my knee.

**xxxx**

The workout was one of the more intense ones that I've had in a while. It was a strength training day, focusing on getting my quad muscle to build up. I could feel my muscle protest to the extensive reps on the leg press, but I pushed through it. My knee was not in pain, so I would push on. My quad would never get better if I didn't work on it.

As I finished the rep, I allowed the weights to sink back down into their proper place and let out a loud sigh of relief. I'm not supposed to hold my breath during reps, but sometimes I couldn't help it.

"You're supposed to breathe while working out."

I lean my head back and gaze at John, rolling my eyes. His broad smirk looked even goofier upside down.

"I realize that." I mutter, trying not to smile.

"Do you?" he teased, turning a chair backwards and coming to sit directly next to me with his arms on the back of the chair. I had to remind myself of his professional standing as he sat close enough to tough my arm with his. What is wrong with me?

"So does your face always look like this when you are breathing?" he asked, filling his cheeks with air and puffing up his face to make a silly expression. I laugh, swatting at his arm as I sat up.

"Only when I'm trying to impersonate you." I joke lightly. He chuckles at this, shaking his head.

"Your impersonation sucks."

Laughing once more, I smile.

"So what's next?" I question. It's been around an hour since I arrived and I could feel my body becoming fatigued. Workouts only lasted about an hour at a time, so I knew if there was any exercises left, it would probably be the last.

He props his head up in his hands, scratching his chin in a contemplative way.

"Hmmm. Since you've done a lot of weights today how about we just ice your leg down and call it a day?" he suggests, that easy smile appearing once again.

"Alright." I agree, nodding at the notion. Ice sounded really awesome right about now.

"Great. How about you go make yourself a bag and grab the wraps and I will get you wrapped up and ready to go?" I no longer iced at the Center. Now the ice bag was strapped to my knee and kept there for 20 minutes. It allowed me to move around while icing, which was perfectly fine with me.

"Sure. Be back in a second." I say as I stand. My legs groaned at the motion and I let out a soft sigh. This weight training was going to kill me.

Careful not to agitate my already aching muscles, I headed to the wrap station to prepare the ice bag and grab the plastic wrap.

**xxxx**

(John's Point of View)

I watched Evangeline head towards the wrappings and chuckled slightly at her exhausted form. She was pushing through great, but as she walked I could see the strain in her muscles. She was definitely going to be sore tomorrow. The weight training was usually the roughest part of therapy, and I had really pushed her to the limit today. It was worth it though. She met the challenges in stride and accomplished all of her exercises without complaint. I'd have to focus some more on that range of motion, though. That can be tomorrows work out.

I stood up from the chair and glanced at Ste and Michelle. They were still tucked away in their corner, talking up a storm. Michelle had her back to me and though they were on the other side of the vast room I could clearly see the happiness etched onto Ste's face. If he was smiling any bigger I believe his face would break. I doubt they even realized the session was over for today.

As I started towards them, a familiar face by the door caught my attention. A man with a black tee shirt and gym shorts, both sporting the logo of the new gym a few minutes down the road from here, tentatively rubs at his shoulder. He glances hesitantly around the room until he spots me, giving a slight wave. I give him my attention as he strolls towards me.

"Good to see you John." He says with his distinct accent, extending his hand towards mine. I shake it firmly, meeting his eyes.

"You too, Justin. So the shoulder is still giving you problems?" I ask, looking at the shoulder he cradled.

"Yeah, it was fine up until about a week ago. I was helping clean up and picked up some of the dumbbells. I regret it now. It's that same nagging pain from before." He explains with his hand on the spot that gives him trouble.

I nod at the information, wracking my brain for a reason behind the pain. I wasn't a doctor. I was usually dealing with the after effects of surgery or injury, but I didn't diagnose injuries. That was not in my job description. But I felt like this problem was a minor one, something a little extra stretching would help.

"Honestly man I think it is just a tweak. It sounds like your shoulder is just overworked. I can give you a few stretches to do, and that paired with Advil should cover it." I answer. I chuckle at the relief on his face.

"But if it happens again, you should definitely get it checked with a-"

"Hey, sorry to interrupt but I've got the ice." I look behind Justin to see Evangeline. She held up the bag in her hand, filled with packed ice. Her eyes briefly trace the back of the man in front of me, but she turns back to me, grinning.

Her expression still showed how tired she was, but there was still that light behind her eyes. She held the plastic wrap in her other hand, ready to use. I smile at her, waving her over to an unoccupied examination table.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude on a session." Justin says apologetically, turning to spot Evangeline.

_Thud._

The ice bag hit the floor the minute Justin spoke. Both Evangeline and Justin froze, eyes wide in shock. I glance between the two of them, confused. Did they know each other?

"E." Justin whispers. His voice was so low I about didn't catch it, but Evangeline must have heard it as she snapped her jaw closed at his voice addressing her. Her silence was something I was not use to.

She looked horrified. Something wasn't right. Gone was the smile from earlier. Gone was the determination. Gone was the girl who laughed out loud at the stupid faces made behind my back by Ste and Michelle. In her place someone who was hurt and broken. Her body was rigid and slightly shaking. She looked like she wanted to run away, would bolt off in the opposite direction any second. Instead of running, however, she held her ground. Or maybe she couldn't run. Maybe something was holding her in her spot, whether fear or shock or something else completely.

All I knew was that I felt like pulling her to my chest and holding her together, because right now I was afraid she was about to break apart.

Justin's eyes glance down, spotting the scar on Evangeline's knee. He swallows hard, the corners of his mouth falling into a frown.

"What happened?" he questions.

"Doesn't matter." She answers shortly. Her words were harsh, but something underneath her voice gave away her emotions. It was strained, as if she had to force herself to talk.

Justin shook his head. He wasn't going to accept that answer.

"What happened E?" he asks again, this time a sense of urgency in his voice. He was worried. He reaches down, grabbing the abandoned ice and holding it out to Evangeline. Reluctantly, she takes it from him, avoiding his touch as if he has the plague. There was so much pain in her face, so much hurt and suffering. Not of the physical kind, but of the emotional.

I didn't like it.

Justin kept his eyes on her, sadness in his expression as he looked at her. He was still concerned about her knee, as his gaze would jump back and forth between her scar and her face.

"Please Evangeline…" he stared, his voice soft.

"Don't." she said, her voice cracking. "Don't act like-"

"Like I care?" Justin finishes, shaking his head. "E, you know I care. I still care about you, even though things didn't work out." He steps forward, as if to console her.

She backs away, stumbling with the sudden movement. Seeing her falter in her steps brings me out of my trance. I jumped to her aid, gently supporting her arm.

"Easy. It's okay." I say quietly, placing myself between her and Justin. Her eyes fell on me, but she wasn't seeing me. Her eyes held a distant look. I knew she was lost in thought, or more likely panic. I didn't know what to do.

"Michelle!" I call, looking back over my shoulder.

Michelle whipped her head around, hearing the tone of my voice. The color in her face disappeared as she spotted Justin, a curse word leaving her lips. Ste stood, eyeing us with curiosity. Michelle stood quickly, rushing over to Evangeline.

"Michelle, I didn't know she was here, I…" Justin trailed off as she turned towards him, pushing Evangeline behind her.

"No you wouldn't have known," she said quietly. "But you need to leave."

There was no hatred in her voice. She was calm. She was just protecting Evangeline, who shook uncontrollably as she looked over Michelle's shoulder at the man who must have caused her so much pain.

"Michelle, what happened to her knee?" Justin asked desperately, ignoring her question. Ste was making his way over now, seeing the distress on Michelle's face.

"Justin, this isn't the time or place." She responded, her tone of voice saying she wouldn't budge on the matter.

I didn't know what had happened between Evangeline and Justin, but I could guess. The story from the bar…this was the girl Justin had spoken to me about. Evangeline was the fiancée he called it off with.

Suddenly, I did not want him to be in the Center. Just looking at Evangeline told me she was about to lose it. I felt this overbearing need to protect her, to make sure she was okay. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and shield her from the hurt that she was feeling. I didn't care that she was my patient. I didn't care that I was supposed to be professional. I just knew I never wanted to see this look of utter hurt on her face ever again.

I cleared my throat, stepping forward to put even more space between the girls and Justin. I didn't feel like he would do anything to hurt them, but the emotional turmoil was enough for me to try to get him to leave.

"I will give you a call about the stretches. They do not require you to stay here." I say, pulling Justin's attention back to me. He looked as if he was going to protest, but one look at Ste's expression and he nodded in understanding. The Irishman had come to rest next to Michelle, his emotions masked with a look of intensity. Justin looked at me, nodding his head in a form of acknowledgment.

"You have my number. Just give me a call when you are free." He says softly.

He looks back over at Michelle and Evangeline, battling internally. He wanted to say something, but chose instead to give an attempt at a smile.

"Bye Michelle…Evan."

Evangeline looked down at the sound of her name, her eyes closing tightly. Justin turned without another word and left, leaving the four of us alone in the Training room.

As he disappeared out of the door, Michelle turned towards her friend, cupping her face in her hands.

"Shh. Calm down, everything is okay. He's gone." She cooed, her thumbs rubbing soothing circles on Evangeline's cheeks.

Evangeline's breathing hitched, something of a gasp escaping her lips as Michelle crushed her in a tight hug. I look at Ste, unsure of what to do and fighting with the urge to comfort her. Seeing my expression, he shakes his head. It wasn't our place to try and console Evangeline. Not yet at least. He places a gentle hand on Michelle's shoulder, gaining the blonde's attention.

"Let John wrap the ice on her knee and then you two can head out of here." He says gently, his voice barely above a whisper. Michelle nods, pulling Evangeline into her side and leading her to the table I had gestured to earlier.

I followed quietly, my heart breaking at the sight of Evangeline. She had silently started to cry, tears streaming down her face at the event that just took place. Michelle sat her up on the table, coming to sit next to her and rubbing her shoulder in a soothing way. I hesitantly took the bag of ice and wrap from her hands, hating how her arms cradled her midsection as soon as her hands were free.

Sighing, I lowered myself to a knee in front of her. I gently placed the bag on her knee and started to secure it with the plastic wrap, feeling as if I moved to fast I would send her shattering into a million pieces. Once it was securely wrapped to her knee, I helped Michelle get her back on her feet.

Michelle looked at me apologetically, a sad smile on her face.

"Thanks John. I'm sorry about all of this. We'll be back tomorrow. Same time?"

I nod, giving her my own sad smile before looking at Evangeline again. The tears had stopped for the moment, her eyes trained on the floor.

"I'll see you tomorrow Evangeline." I manage to say, unsure of what else I wanted to say anyways. I was, after all, only her therapist.

As the words crossed my mind, I hated the thought. _Only her therapist. _I was her friend, right? I could be her friend. But with this, I felt out of my league. We've never really talked much outside of general chit chat and therapy stuff. I knew her stats, her weight tolerance, and her exercises by heart; but I didn't know her favorite color, or what movies she liked, or anything personal about her that a friend would usually know. I was her friend, but only in here. Only in the Center. Outside of it, I was nothing. I needed to fix that. I wanted to know more about this girl in front of me. I wanted to protect her and understand what she is going through, because right now I feel pretty useless.

Evangeline didn't look up as I bid her farewell. She remained silent. Michelle led her out, whispering reassurances and comforts that I knew nothing of.

Ste came to stand beside me, his hands grasping my shoulders and shaking me slightly as a way to ease the tension that had formed in my body.

"She's going to be alright John." He insisted.

"I just wish I could help her." I confess, feeling the weight of those words as they were spoken.

Stephen sighed, crossing his arms as he looked at me.

"Help her with her knee first, then see what you can do to help her heart. One body part at a time."

The words would have been comical to me this morning. I would have laughed at the cliché feeling to the statement and shrugged it off to be no big deal.

After what just happened, I no longer tried to deny it.

I did have feelings for Evangeline. I don't know how deep those feelings ran or what exactly those feelings would mean in the long run, but I knew this.

They were there, and there was no turning back now. I already cared too much.

I was going to fix Evangeline, like Ste said. One body part at a time.

**I know it's kind of a cheesy exchange between Ste and John at the end, but I'm a sucker for adorable hallmark-card-ish words. *Sigh*…let the daydreams begin.**

**This had been one of my favorite chapters so far, and I'm excited to see what y'all think! The story seems to finally be picking up with some admitting of feelings on both sides, especially John here. I hope you all will enjoy where this story will go from here on out.**

**I would love to hear what you all thought of this chapter, so if you feel compelled to do so, please leave a review! Please and thank you!**

**Much love,**

**Meg**


	11. Chapter 11

**This is really late getting updated and I apologize for that! Exam week just passed, and I have been preoccupied with studying. But now it is summer! Which means as long as I am not lazy, updates should be up sooner than usual. **

**Well I loved the response to the last chapter and thank you all for the lovely reviews and alerts! You make me feel so loved. I know I say it every update but it does really mean a lot to me. **

**Let the story continue.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except the plot and the OCs. No harm meant or profit gained.**

(John's POV)

I sat outside of the Center, watching the cars race by on the highway a few hundred feet away. Rush, rush, rush. Never slow down. Never enough time. People have lost the art of patience. Everyone is always so busy and no one wants to change up the pace and stop. No one wants to take a minute and enjoy the finer things in life. Like the way the variety of roses that lined the Center were in full bloom, each one standing out against the deep green of the leaves. Or how the air was cool today, a gentle breeze not created by the moving cars lifting up the different aromas of the surrounding area. Or to watch the sunset, as I was doing now.

The sun slowly dipped below the horizon line, lighting the sky with brilliant shades of pink and orange. I hadn't watched a sunset in a long time and with the surroundings-apart from the highway-it was very peaceful. If I hadn't have had so much on my mind, I might have even been able to relax. But as it turns out, there was a lot on my mind and all of it revolved around Evangeline and Justin.

I still was having trouble wrapping my head around everything. The details on a lot of aspects were still fuzzy, but I knew a few things for certain. One, Evangeline and Justin had a history, and if my assumption was correct it was their failed engagement that Justin had first spoken to me about. Two, Evangeline was still very hurt by it all, to the point where she could barely function in front of the man. And three, I never wanted to see her pained like that again.

Ste had called Michelle a little later, checking up on her and Evangeline. Michelle sounded fine, a little shaken but she was holding herself together with a grace that I admittedly did not know she possessed. Goofy Michelle, the same one that teasingly called her partner "Crip" and made faces behind my back, was the picture of strength right now. Evangeline on the other hand had shut down. Michelle had solemnly told us that she wasn't talking to anyone right now. It was as if she had retreated inwards. Ste assured Michelle that she would be okay, just needed a break and a good night's sleep and she'd be good as new. I pray he is correct.

I liked Justin. I had nothing against the man. He seemed like an awesome guy, someone I'd be friends with. Someone I could go grab a beer with. I was not going to attack the man for something that had happened before I knew either of them. It wouldn't be fair to anyone. As far as I was concerned, I would still treat both of them the same as I have been.

But I couldn't treat their injuries at the same time. A schedule would have to be worked out to where the two would not see each other. I was here to help, not to cause them more pain. Both Justin and Evangeline clearly had some emotional healing to do.

I sighed heavily as I sat against the bricks. This was where I had told Justin to meet me. After the accidental meeting, I called him and told him if he could swing by the Center later tonight I'd be able to get a better look at his shoulder, seeing as I really hadn't looked at it much. He sounded hesitant, but nevertheless agreed to it. It was now close to seven, the time we had agreed on, and I sat anxiously waiting.

What if Evangeline didn't go back to normal? What if this run-in with her ex broke her? It seemed a pessimistic thought, but her actions certainly did not seem to be a shallow injury. The sight of him had struck her to the core, deep inside of her mind and soul. She wasn't going to bounce back from that after one night. It would take months at least.

To think that I had lost her in one chance happening was mind-boggling. It was unfair that I would be so close to her just to be pulled away rapidly.

I banished the selfish thought with a shake of my head as a car door slammed off to my right. The sun had gone down by now, with the remaining light of the day disappearing quickly, so I had to squint to make out the person who walked up. I knew who it was though. And as he got closer I raised a hand in greeting.

"Hey Justin."

The man returned the wave half-heartedly.

"John." He acknowledged, his voice soft. He was tired. I didn't blame him. I felt emotionally drained myself.

For a minute, we just stood there, an awkward silence filling the gap between us. Trying to get rid of the tension, I cleared my throat. "How about I take a look at the shoulder? Come on in."

Justin followed quietly into the deserted Center. Only Ste and I were left, Ste dealing with a business man who had strained his back pretty badly. He glanced up, his gaze unreadable as his eyes landed on Justin. Justin didn't seem to notice the icy stare, though he did pick up his pace to follow a little closer behind me.

Ste could be intimidating, but he wouldn't interfere. Not when it wasn't his place. Just like it wasn't my place.

"Alright. Have a seat." I say as I pat the examination table in front of me. Justin moves to hop up, his movements revealing his nerves. He must still be a little shaken from earlier.

I move behind him, finding the shoulder he had mentioned earlier and begin to move it around, asking Justin if any of my actions caused pain.

"No." he answered quietly.

I moved it around to a different area, repeating the same tugging and bending. Still, he felt no pain. Releasing his arm, I slowly pressed on the shoulder. He hissed when I hit a tender spot, and I made a mental note of the spot before checking other areas.

"Well, seeing as you are only a little sore and I could provoke any pain from the other movements, I really think you are okay." I say lightly, walking back to where I stood in front of him.

"I think you've probably overworked it, but a few stretches and some ice will make it good as new. You'll just have to go easy for a week or so, and stretch well before physical activity."

He let out a sigh of relief, smiling as he shook his head.

"Thank God. I was worried sick over this. I'm glad it is nothing."

I chuckled, sitting next to him on the examination table. Neither of us spoke for a while, though I could feel Justin's urge to.

"Hey John?" he started, "do you think you can tell me what-"

"I'm sorry man," I cut him off. "I'm not at liberty to discuss other patients with you."

"But this is different," he insisted. "I mean I've known Evan for years."

"Sorry." I say again, giving him a shrug. "You'll have to find out from her. I really cannot tell you anything."

He sighed, but nodded his head. He wouldn't push his luck. But as he looked up at me with the desperation of a broken man I knew he had something else on his mind as well.

"Can you at least tell me if she is happy?"

I sat quietly for a moment, directing my gaze straight out in front of me. Was she happy? I only saw her for an hour or two a day, and she had never shown any sadness to me. Then again, Evangeline didn't strike me as a person who freely shows her emotions. She was tough, and she didn't want pity. If she was sad, she'd surely hide it.

"As far as I know, she's okay." I answer cautiously, unsure if those were the words he wanted to hear. But his small grin told me it was the answer he was hoping for.

"Just make sure she gets back on the court." Justin adds, scratching the back of his head. "I know how much she loves volleyball. It would kill her to have to stop playing."

I nod in acknowledgement, before replying "She'll be just fine. She's a fighter. Evangeline will be on the court before she knows it. As long as she keeps with her treatment, she will be good as new."

His grin breaks into a wide smile, and I couldn't help but smile in return. He did care for her. It was obvious. No matter what happened between them, he still genuinely looked out for her well-being, and I respected him highly for that. He acknowledged that she was a part of his life, even if they were no longer together. I had no doubt they could be friends later on after some healing, if Evangeline was willing.

"Well, I've troubled you for too long today. I'll get out of your hair." Justin says, standing up. "Thanks John. And if you need a place to work out, you can always come visit my gym." He said shamelessly.

I chuckled at the plug. "Will do, man. Take care."

I watched him leave, grinning at the nervous glance he gave to Ste. Ste watched him as well as he stood up as he left to go through the files next to him. Justin flinched slightly at the sudden movement and I swore I saw Ste smirk at the jump. Justin increased the speed of his walking as he neared the door, ready to be out of the Irishman's sight.

Laughing to myself, I began to clean up. Ste approached me as I picked up some discarded towels around the Center. His curiosity had gotten the best of him at last.

"He's a jumpy fellow, isn't he?" He questioned, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Only when he's intimidated by a certain ginger." I responded, raising my eyebrow at him as I smirked.

He scoffed at the comment, giving me an easy shrug. "I would never hurt him until he gave me a reason to." He says lightly before grinning widely. "I just like messing with the guy is all."

I chuckled as I threw the towels in the hamper. "It was pretty funny to watch him flinch." I admit.

"That's what I'm here for. I provide the entertainment." He jokes.

I laugh loudly to the statement. Sitting down on the examination table, I let out a heavy sigh. Ste sits next to me and for a moment we are quiet, lost in our own thoughts.

"What do I do?" I ask, keeping my gaze forward.

Ste shifted in his spot, pausing to collect his thoughts.

"Nothing." He finally answers.

"Nothing?"

"Well, you can't really hold anything against Justin," he begins, "because I doubt anyone would benefit from that."

I nod in agreement. "Besides, he broke it off with Evangeline to give her a chance to find someone else. Or at least that is what he told me in that bar." I say, "He's not evil, or out to hurt her. He was doing what he thought was best. And I can't blame him for that."

Ste nods. "And I doubt Michelle would appreciate me doing anything to the fellow."

"No probably not." I agreed, laughing at the mental image I got of Michelle scolding Ste.

"So, you do nothing. Focus on your job. Focus on helping Evan recover. And see what happens after that."

"I've always been pretty patient." I add, earning a snort out of Stephen.

"Understatement of the year."

I nudge him, shaking my head as he dramatically yelps.

"Shut it you big baby." I laugh, standing up and heading to my office. It's been a long day. I needed to get out of here and get some sleep.

**xxxx**

(Evan's POV)

Breathe.

Just breathe.

In and out. Slow and steady breaths.

I repeated the words over and over in my head. It was the only thing I could think of that might calm me down.

It wasn't working.

All night I had woken up from nightmares. Ones with my knee. Ones with Justin. Ones with both. I eventually got up and spent an hour pacing before finally collapsing from sheer exhaustion. It got me a few hours of sleep at least.

I couldn't sleep in today. Not when I had therapy. But as the car neared the center, I could feel my heart racing. What if Justin was there?

He hadn't tried to contact me. Not once. And if he had tried to get a hold of Michelle she hadn't told me. In fact, it's been kind of silent between the two of us. Not that she didn't try to talk to me. I just shut down. My mind was going in a million different directions and everything around me was in a haze. I was back to going through the motions.

I didn't want to be here.

And as we pulled into the Center's parking lot, I knew it was going to be difficult.

My throat felt like it was closing and I coughed to clear it, touching my throat with my fingers to make sure nothing was wrong.

"He's not here, Evan." I heard Michelle say, though it did nothing to calm me down. My eyes traced every detail of the parking lot, looking for any sign of him. He was here yesterday. He knew I would be here. Would he show up?

The idea of it terrified me. I didn't want to see him. But it wasn't just because he left me. It's because he brought back memories. Both good and bad. The moments where I was so in love my heart would burst…and the moments where I realized that love was not returned anymore. Everything that I thought I had gotten over flooded back in a second, and now they tortured me once again. I was moving forward and now I felt like I was back to where I started.

The car stopped in a vacant spot and Michelle turned towards me. It wasn't until she touched my hand that I realized I was shaking. I looked at her, my eyes wide and my breath coming in quick intakes.

"E, it's okay. Do you hear me? He's not here. And I need you to focus right now. Your knee is not going to get better by itself."

I nod at her words to show I understood, but I wasn't completely convinced.

"Let's go." She said firmly, getting out of the car.

I took the deepest breath I could muster before forcing myself to get out of the car.

Here goes nothing.

**I know this is a really short chapter, but I felt like it needed to stop here in preparation for the next. I promise I will get the next one up soon!**

**Read and review, please let me know how I'm doing and how you are enjoying this story.**

**Much love,**

**Meg**


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you all for the kind reviews! I'm glad y'all are enjoying the story so far!  
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**As promised, this one is up sooner rather than later. I still have an online class this summer, and I will have that plus a job starting in June, so I will do my best to update on at least a weekly basis. **

**Enjoy!**

(John's POV)

I realized Evangeline and Michelle were here before I caught sight of them. Ste's greeting was enough to know they were here. I had been arranging files when I heard him call out to the girls. But what worried me was I only heard Michelle respond. It was unusual for Evangeline to stay silent. Ste cleared his throat, a nervous habit he had developed over the years. It didn't appear much, since Ste was normally very confident. But when he was unsure of himself or of a situation, it always resurfaced.

I could tell today would be rough.

Not that I had really expected anything else. After yesterday's unforeseen events, a weaker person would have avoided this place like the plague. But Evangeline was strong, much stronger than most. She showed up…at least in the physical sense. Mentally? Emotionally? That was yet to be seen.

I turned to face them and felt my shoulders tense instinctively. Evangeline looked as if she had been through Hell and back. Her eyes seemed to stare off into the distance even as she scanned the room timidly. The dark circles underneath her usually warm eyes gave away the lack of sleep. Her body moved rigidly, as if bracing against some unknown attack. She looked so lost in a place where she had originally been so sure of herself.

I shot a look towards Michelle, hoping that I was reading too far into Evangeline's body language. Maybe she was okay. But the grave look on Michelle's face told me my suspicions were correct. Today was going to be a challenge.

"Alright short stuff, let's do this." I say with a joking tone, throwing in the short comment to tease her. Maybe jokes would help this day go smoothly.

She didn't respond. In fact, I don't think she even heard me. She was too busy glancing at every shadow and corner of the Center. She didn't seem to be aware of much else.

"E?" Michelle tried, taking a small step towards the girl who had wandered off.

"Evangeline? Come on let's get started." I try again, this time skipping the jokes. I even threw in a clap to get the motion started.

The clap was a bad idea.

At the pop of my hands, Evangeline jumped, practically running in the direction of the door. Her eyes widened significantly as she glanced around frantically. An audible gasp passed her lips as she forced her back to the wall, closing her eyes tightly. Her body seemed to fold in on itself in an attempt to make her as small as possible.

Michelle, Ste, and I froze in silence, watching the shaking girl. We didn't know what to do.

Michelle looked as if she might burst into tears at the sight of her best friend. It was so unlike her to panic in such a way.

I took a deep breath before striding forward.

"John…" Ste said quietly, a warning held in his tone. I glanced over my shoulder and waited. After a long pause, he sighed, nodding his head. He didn't know what I was going to do, but he trusted me.

Michelle watched the exchange silently, a perplexed expression gracing her features.

Evangeline's chest heaved as I approached her, her eyes still shut tightly. "Evangeline?" I heard myself say, my voice much softer than before. Something told me being loud and forceful wouldn't cut it right now.

She didn't respond to me, still keeping her eyes closed and her breath coming in quick bursts. She needed to calm down.

"Evangeline, look at me."

I positioned myself in front of her, planting my feet firmly. If she was going to run, she would have to get past me. I placed a timid hand on her shoulder, relief filling me when she didn't recoil from my hand.

"Look at me." I said again, this time with more authority.

She opened her eyes slightly, enough to where I could see the brown pigment of her eye. Her eyes found mine and froze, locking her gaze with mine. She was listening to me, even though her body was telling her to run.

"He's not in here. There is nothing to be afraid of." I say calmly, keeping my voice steady and slow. Her breathing didn't slow down, so I tried again.

"Evangeline, your knee needs work. You have a long way to go. You want to get back to the courts right?"

Hesitantly, she nods. I look over my shoulder to see Michelle and Ste watching intently.

"We are here to help you, but you need to calm down. You can't get better if you don't trust us." I say, my voice carrying a pleading tone. I was anxious. If I couldn't calm her down, I'm not sure what else to do. I was grasping at straws as it is.

She stared at me for a moment and neither of us spoke nor dropped the eye contact. My hand still rested on her shoulder, and I could feel her body relaxing under my touch. Was her breath slowing down?

With one long shaky breath, she seemed to snap out of the panic she was in. She was still tense, but her eyes were more focused, her breathing much more controlled. She shook her head as if to clear her mind and gradually straightened from her slightly hunched and defensive position against the wall.

I smiled softly at her, realizing I had somehow gotten through. I lifted my hand from her shoulder, letting it awkwardly return to my side. I took a step back, giving her room to breathe.

She looked at me, her eyes more present than before, and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry." She whispered, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

"Don't be." I responded, shrugging, "You've been through a lot."

She nods, still embarrassed. Even though she had calmed down, she still looked ready to collapse at any second. She just seemed so fragile.

"How about you and Michelle go get some water, take a minute to relax, okay?" I suggest. She nods again, and I look back at Michelle, gesturing her to come here.

"There's a water fountain over by the bathrooms. Cups are on the shelf above it." I state. Michelle acknowledges the comment, needing no more instruction.

"Come on E. Let's get some water." She says, mustering up all of the carefree attitude that she could, though as they walked I could hear Michelle's concerned voice as she questioned her friend, asking if she was alright.

Ste clears his throat behind me, resting a head on my shoulder.

"Well. This is a mess."

"Yeah." I answer bleakly.

"She doesn't seem fit to work much today. She is on edge, and she looks like she could sleep for a week straight." He comments, watching the girls talk quietly.

"I know, but I hate that they came all the way here just for her to fall apart like that. I feel like a little exercise could do her some good. Maybe just some deep stretches and some leg lifts on the tables?" I mutter, glancing over at the equipment.

Ste scratches his chin as he thinks. "Yeah, I suppose that couldn't hurt."

I nod, turning to grab the ankle weights she will need for the lifts.

"You handled that pretty well, by the way." I hear him say, stopping me in my tracks.

"I didn't like seeing her so frightened. Not when my clap triggered it." I admit.

"John, you didn't cause that." He says with a finality that squashes any protests to say otherwise that I might have had.

"I still didn't like it." I mumble.

"I know. But you calmed her down. That's all that matters for now," he says, turning to go back to the files he had been sorting before the girls arrived, "One day at a time, John. You take it one day at a time."

Without a response, I go about setting up the tables, letting Ste's words sink in.

**xxxx **

(Evangeline's POV)

Move.

_Move._

I kept repeating the word over and over, but my leg would not respond.

It's been three days since the incident with Justin. The day afterwards all John had me do was some stretching and routine leg exercises on the tables. After the reaction I had to the clap, I'm surprised they didn't just send me home. I still don't remember much from the event. I remember the sound and then…nothing. My mind went blank, and I reacted solely on instinct, which told me to get as far away as possible as quick as I could. I remember feeling as if I couldn't get enough air. I remember closing my eyes because I felt like if they were open, Justin would be there. But that's all I remember until I snapped out of it. It was like I went into shock.

Once I realized where I was and who was there, I felt so ashamed of my actions. Was I going insane? After a few months I should be fine without Justin, right? But I'm not, obviously. Not if I still have that kind of reaction. John and Michelle and Stephen all saw it, saw how I acted and saw the pain I still harbor in my heart from the event.

But now it has gotten worse. I've become _completely_ useless. For the past two sessions, my body has not seemed to really want to respond to my desire to work out.

If anything, it has shut down.

I can't do as many reps as I use to be able to do. The amount of weight I can stand has been practically nothing as of late. I still can't sleep well. I have to force myself to eat. It's like I'm stuck in a body that cannot and will not do what I want it to do. And to top it all off, my mood has gotten particularly bitter because of it. I didn't feel like being here. I didn't want to be here. I'm backsliding so fast that I don't know what to do. Worse yet, I fear there is nothing I can do to fix it.

"That's only 8, Evangeline."

There it is. Disappointment. I've started to notice it in his voice. The one person who I have been trying to prove I was strong to now knows that I lied. I'm not as strong as others think.

John had been watching as usual, sitting somewhere out of my line of sight but close enough that I could hear him clearly. I didn't acknowledge his comment. Instead I put all of my effort in the task at hand: pushing the weight for the leg press up to complete 12 single leg presses.

Taking a breath, I try again, only to barely budge the weight. It sure did feel heavy today.

"It's only 10 pounds." I hear John say. He is frustrated. So am I. It's been like this for all the exercises lately. He gives me a certain amount of reps. I can't finish any of them. I didn't want to finish them. It was just too hard today.

"I know that." I snap, letting the weights settle back down.

"You should be able to do this in your sleep."

"I _know _that." I repeat with more volume in my voice then I had meant.

I look over to the side, seeing Michelle and Ste sitting quietly in the corner. They looked away when I glance, but I can tell they heard me.

I remain still for a little bit, trying to calm back down. No matter my determination, my body just wouldn't do it. I was useless.

"Are you done?" John asks, referring to the leg lifts. His voice was much calmer, but I could still hear that tension beneath the façade.

I didn't respond, and he took that as my answer.

"On to the next exercise then. Get up and follow me."

I obeyed without a word, sulking as I pulled my body up into a seated position and placed my feet on the floor. It was pointless to do anything else. I've already done leg lifts, squats, and now leg presses all with the same results.

I stare at John's back as I follow him. The tension is visible. His shoulders look incredibly stiff compared to normal, and his attempt to relief some of the tension by rolling his shoulders and popping his neck goes without success.

It takes me a few seconds to realize that we are not near the normal equipment.

"Where are we going?" I ask, my voice full of exhaustion and frustration.

"You'll see."

John looks back over at Ste, pointing towards one of the doors at the back of the center, to which Ste just nods.

Despite my bad mood, I'm curious. It's been a while since I had a new exercise.

Opening the door, I follow John through a hallway, away from the main room. After a few minutes I see that John has led me to a stairway. I groan rather loudly, my head dropping in dread. Stairs were still a pretty hard thing for me. Going up was easy enough, but going back down takes forever. I have to go one step at a time. If I don't it feels like I'm falling through the steps and it scares the heck out of me to put my whole body weight on my knee. I keep feeling like if I do, the joint will snap again, and I'll be back where I started.

John either didn't hear my protest or didn't care.

"Alright. Go up the stairs, all the way to the top." He says firmly, turning towards me.

I do as he says, going up the stairs as normally as possible. The step up exercises certainly help with the up motion. There are only about 20 steps. As I reach the top, I turn to face John. His blue eyes cut right through me, and I can't tell if I did well or not. He could certainly be intimidating when he wanted to be.

"You're a little shaky, but your knee is doing pretty well going up stairs. Now come down. Walk like you would any other day."

I hesitate, unsure of how to go about going down the stairs. It kind of terrifies me a little that I don't feel strong enough to go down the stairs like a normal person. I grip the rail beside me, trying to build up the courage to begin.

"Come on Evangeline, they're only stairs. You can do it." John says. Although usually I appreciate his encouragement, today I do not.

"Don't rush me." I mutter, looking down at the stairs below as if they are wet rocks that I will slip right off of if I so much as take a wrong step. Taking a deep breath, I step down onto the next step, using my good leg. In the motion, I turn almost sideways, making it rather impossible to step down without stopping at each individual step.

"Evangeline, don't turn. Keep facing forward when you step." I hear John call.

"I can't. If I do I will fall." I insist. I ignore him as I continue down the steps, one at a time.

"Yes you can. Your leg is strong enough to handle it. You have to be confident in that." He continues. "Now stop and start again, this time facing me."

I stop, but continue to face the rail. "I told you. I can't."

"Have you tried?" he questions. His arms cross over his chest and he gives me a scrutinizing look, one that I feel like is seeing into my soul. I glare back at him, feeling uneasy beneath the gaze.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I am trying!"

"No. You're copping out. You're sheltering your knee." He points out.

I turn to face him, my hands going to my hips in defiance.

"So?"

"So," he says with frustration, though he is doing well to suppress it, "If you shelter it, you won't get better. You'll make it easier to hurt yourself again."

"That makes no sense." I argue. "If I protect it, it shouldn't get hurt again."

"Not if you expect to ever get back on the court. If you want to play again, you cannot shelter your leg. Otherwise your bad leg will become dependent on your left leg and with the added pressure you will be prone to more injury. You are already prone to injury because you tore your ACL once. You don't won't to give yourself another excuse to get hurt." He explains.

I sigh, knowing he is right, but not feeling comfortable enough to step down off the step.

I turn back to face the stairs normally, but I can't make myself step down.

"Evangeline, I wouldn't make you do this if you were not strong enough." He points out. "Come on. Just try."

I want to try.

I really do want to. As much as it terrifies me, the thought of never playing volleyball again terrifies me more.

Mustering up all the courage I can find within me, I step down. Immediately my leg wobbles. I gasp, more out of panic than pain and stop again. Turning towards the wall, I shake my head. It didn't hurt, but I could feel it. I could feel it wanting to give away. All I can think about is the pain I felt when I tore it that rainy night months ago, and I didn't not want to relive it.

So weak.

So useless.

"John I can't." I say again, pressing my forehead against the wall.

"Yes you can. You did just fine then." John says with an edge of urgency in his voice.

"No it was going to give away…"

"Your leg is strong enough. It is wobbly because your muscle is weaker than normal. You feel like you will hurt yourself but you won't." he insists.

"But it-"

"How are you going to work on stability if you don't try? Your leg is going to take some time to be stable again, but it won't give out on you."

"I am trying!" I interject, shooting a sharp look at him. How could he not see that I was doing my best?

"No, this is not trying. You are going through the motions." He states, never breaking eye contact. Our voices are getting louder, more heated.

"I am not!" I say in outrage.

"Evangeline, this is not your best. It's like you don't care anymore. If you keep giving half of your effort on exercises, it might take a year for you to get back on the court. Is that what you want?" he asks. I'd think he was joking if I didn't see his face when he said it. His gaze did not waiver once as he spoke, and his expression gave no indication of anything but the truth. Incredulously, I shake my head. In my anger, I start to move down the stairs one by one.

"What are you doing?" John questions.

"I am coming down the stairs." I reply sharply, not even attempting to hide my sarcasm.

"You need to face forward."

"I will do it how I want to." I say bitterly, ignoring John. I was done for the day. I just wanted to leave.

"Oh no you won't." I hear John mutter. Before I know it, the broad man is making his way up the stairs. He stops in front of me, placing his hands on both rails to block the stairwell. In the narrow stairs I can't pass him.

"Go back up. You're starting over." He says flatly.

"I will do no such thing."

"Evangeline, go back up and start over. You're going to do it right."

I stomp my foot in frustration, not caring that I looked like a child.

"Move."

"Not a chance." He states, a smug look on his face.

"I'm not doing it." I spit. I would not give him the satisfaction of going back up the stairs. If he wanted to be stubborn, I could be too.

"Evangeline." He said with a warning look in his eye.

"I cannot do it. How many times are you going to make me say it?" I ask, my hands going up in the air with disbelief.

"Until you realize that you can."

John takes a step up, forcing me to back up to a higher step to avoid being stepped on.

"John, stop it."

"Nope. You're starting over, whether you like it or not." He says with another step forward. I retreat once more.

"You've been slacking all day." He continues, stepping forward again to force me back once more.

"You're giving up, and I just can't watch you do this to yourself anymore."

Another step. Another retreat.

A few more steps and I'll be back at the top of the stairs. My breath starts to increase again, and I can feel a familiar burn behind my eyes. I don't want to start over. I can't do it.

"John, stop it!"

He stops suddenly, grabbing a hold of my wrist. His eyes find mine and seem to cut to my very core. I can see all of the pent up frustration that he holds inside, all of the determination he has, all of the fight that I can't for the life of me find inside of me at this very moment.

"Why can't you understand that you are stronger than you think?" he questions, his voice thick with confusion.

"I'm not stronger!" I protest, my brows furrowing in frustration and anger and hurt.

"You are strong. But your determination and trust has been taken over by fear. Why are you afraid?" he demands.

"I'm not." I answer, caught off guard by the question. Where was this coming from?

"I can see it in your eyes that you are afraid."

I don't respond, unsure of what to even say to that. He continues.

"You have been here every day for the past months and not once have you doubted yourself. Not once. So why now? Why do you no longer trust yourself? Why do you no longer trust me to help you?" he asks, his voice low and desperate for answers.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out.

In frustration, John shakes his head.

"You can't let your fears control you, Evangeline! If you do, you're stuck."

"Do you think I want to be afraid?" I yell, my voice cracking on the last word as tears blur my vision.

John stares at me silently, the shock at my outburst clear on his face.

"I have been doing my best to be strong and act like everything will be okay but nothing ever is! I'm not strong, I am weak! I am useless, and nothing I ever do is good enough. But I try, John, I try so freaking hard to fix everything and make everything better, but it is not! I take a step forward and two steps back. My whole life has been falling apart and now I can't even go down stairs without feeling like I will break in two."

At this point, I can no longer hold my tears. I've held back for the past few days, trying to convince myself if I didn't think about it I would be fine, but nothing is fine. I place a hand on the wall, sinking to the floor to sit on the cursed stairs that started all of this and bury my head in my hands.

In an instant, I feel the warm embrace of John's arm as it wraps around my shoulders, crushing me into his chest. I don't even care that I am an emotional wreck anymore. I just wrap my arms around his waist and cry. He gently rocks us back and forth, not saying a word but just being there for me to have something to hold onto, something to keep me tied to this world when I feel everything has fallen down around me. My job, my love life, my health; all of it seems to be coming undone. But having John there keeps me grounded, reminds me that I am still here and still breathing.

John spoke up when I finally stop crying.

"When did that conversation become about your ex?" John asks softly, still rocking me back and forth in a soothing gesture.

Helplessly, I shrug. In truth, I don't even know when it did. Somehow, it became all about Justin though.

"I don't know the story between you two, and you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I can wait for as long as you need, even if that means you never talk to me about it." He starts, "But I want you to know you can always talk to me about stuff. You're not alone."

Not trusting my voice, I answer with a nod.

"Look at me, Evangeline."

Timidly, I turn my face towards him, blinking away the remaining tears. He looks me dead in the eye and this time I'm not intimidated. There's something there. Some unknown, yet familiar emotion. I can't tell what it is.

"You are not weak, and you will never be nor have you ever been useless. You are one of the strongest people I know. You'll get through this. Your knee will not hold you back and you will be back on that court if it is the last thing I do. Don't let anything hold you back from getting back out there. You have the strength to do it. You certainly have the will. Just trust me. And trust yourself."

He spoke with such determination that I am rendered speechless. I don't know what to say, whether that is from the words themselves or the fact that John's face is dangerously close to mine in our current position. There it is. That emotion again. What is it?

Before I can guess, it is gone, and John seems to realize just how close we are. He pulls back slightly, keeping his arm around me as he smiles. I smile back, wiping away any tears left on my face.

John stands up and offers his hand, which I take silently, allowing him to pull me up. He stands on the step below mine, facing me, and takes a hold of my hands.

"Since we are going down the stairs anyways, let's do it right." He says with a chuckle.

"I'm sick of these stairs." I say with a laugh of my own.

"I know. Just get down them and you're done for the day. I promise. I'll help you."

I nod in understanding, taking a deep breath.

"Okay." I agree.

"You can do it." He says, seeing that I still had some hesitation.

I nod once more, preparing myself.

"On the count of three. One. Two. Three."

As "three" left John's lips, I silently took a step down, doing my best to not panic when I wobble slightly.

"Good," John says, grinning widely. "Again. One. Two. Three."

Again I step down. I wobble again, but I gain my balance much quicker this time.

We repeat the process for each step, getting closer and closer to the bottom. Each step gets easier, though I know I am slightly stiff in my steps and wobbly in my landings. I probably look like I'm waddling down the stairs rather than walking, but at least I am stepping down normally. John doesn't let go of my hands once, serving as a constant reminder that if I fall, he is there to catch me.

As I reach the bottom, John's arms once again engulf me in a massive hug, one that I return gladly. I grip the back of his shirt tightly, relishing in the face that I made it down the stairs and taking comfort in his presence.

"Told you that you could do it." He says gently, a laughing tone surrounding the words as they reached my ear.

"Yeah, yeah." I mutter, making the large man laugh loudly.

"Thank you." I whisper into his chest.

"Anytime." He answers quietly, a grin stretching ear to ear on his face as I look up at him.

"Let's get you some ice." He says as he pulls away. I nod as I follow him back, watching the tension in his shoulders melt away to leave a more normal John walking in front of me. He glances over his shoulder a few times, as if making sure I'm still there, and each time I greet him with a smile. Come to think of it, the weight has lifted off of my shoulders as well. The fear and the doubt seemed to have disappeared, leaving me feeling tired, but immensely more content with everything. I have a spring in my step now, one that promises that things will be as John says.

Things will be better.

**This one is longer that some of the previous ones, so I hope it was worth the extra length! As always, reviews are highly appreciated.**

**Much Love,  
><strong>

**Meg  
><strong>


	13. Chapter 13

***Awkward wave*Hey guys...**

**I cannot apologize enough for my slacking. Not much you can do for writer's block I suppose, but I felt like I had to get something up for y'all to read, otherwise I'd feel like I had abandoned those of you who have reviewed, alerted, or read this story so far. I truly feel like a horrible person for the wait. So, I've come up with this chapter, hoping y'all will like it and hoping it will spark my brain to get to work on this story. It's something, albeit shorter than usual (ugh, I'm a terrible person for doing this to y'all. Extremely LATE and SHORT?! So mean).  
><strong>

**A pretty good step in the right direction for Evangeline and John in this chapter! It has been long enough I think that I have to give these two a little something, don't you think? But for those of you who have been waiting with baited breath (or just simply reading…depending on how well the story has caught your interest) I hope you will be somewhat satisfied in this chapter. There's also some Michelle and Ste going on in this chapter, so that itch is being scratched as well.**

**Anyways, here goes.**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Must I say it? I do not own a thing, nor do I receive money for writing. No harm meant by this fanfic.**

(Michelle's POV)

I leaned against Ste's shoulder, watching Evan and John interact. He seemed to be trying to explain a new exercise, though my friend was not thrilled. She looked rather terrified to be honest. But if John thought she could handle it, I wasn't worried. He would never put her in harm's way.

"She certainly has progressed a lot." I commented aloud, noticing the muscle of her right leg was almost back to its normal size.

"No kidding." Ste replied, sitting next to me. He was close enough to where our shoulders brushed with the slightest of movements. I relished in the feeling of it.

"She's been out of surgery for, what is it now, five months?" he questioned, turning his head to look at me as he asked. I nodded in response, smiling at the time. It has been a while.

"She's eager to start running again, whenever John lets her." I laughed slightly at the words as I said them. Eager was an understatement. She was practically _begging _to run. She had asked repeatedly for the past couple of weeks if she could. It had become a tradition in a way. The first thing she asked while entering the Center was "How about today?" and John's reply was always "Not yet." It frustrated her to no end, but she would wait until John said it was okay.

Ste chuckled beside me. "I'm sure it will be any day now."

She had gotten so much better with the therapy sessions. She had a misstep two months ago when Justin had run into her, but somehow she got back on track. She wasn't letting it affect her now, focusing on her leg as she should.

I on the other hand was focused on another thing entirely. A rather large, Irish thing.

Ste and I have really gotten close through all of this. What started out as harmless flirting has turned into something neither of us were expecting. I still didn't know where we stood. We talked a lot, every day, but as of yet no relationship besides friendship has been brought up.

I was beginning to think I was friend-zoned.

But he constantly showed that maybe there could be more.

A large hand waved in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Are you in there?" he laughed, the sound reverberating through his chest.

I smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, I zoned out. What were you saying?"

He gave me that big cheesy grin that I have grown to adore, shaking his head at me.

"Oh no, I'm obviously not important enough to listen to, so I'm not repeating myself." He teased, nudging my shoulder in the process.

I pouted, sticking out my lower lip and trying to look as disappointed as possible.

"Ste! Tell me! Please?"

His eyes narrowed at me with mock defiance. "That puppy dog look will never work."

I playfully switch my expression to a glare, pushing him lightly. Ste, always dramatic, let out a yelp. "Oi! You hit me!"

"Oh please, that was barely a tap!" I insist, rolling my eyes.

"A hit is a hit, Lass. Doesn't matter the strength." He replies, trying and failing at keeping a straight face.

"Well I wouldn't hit you if you tell me what you said earlier." I joke. I look at him expectantly, mentally cheering when he sighed in defeat.

"If you must know-"

"Oh, I must." I cut him off.

"Well, are you going to let me tell you or not?" he says, his hands going up in the air in his exasperation. I smile innocently and remain silent, allowing him to proceed.

"As I was saying, if you must know, I was asking you what you were planning on doing this weekend."

My heart quickened at his words, and I could feel the heat of a blush on my face. Trying to act nonchalant, I shrug. "Nothing much. Probably just hang around. Why?"

"Well," he started, slightly more hesitant then he was originally, "I was wondering if you-"

"Yes." I answer, smiling widely. So much for playing it cool.

His eyebrows furrowed. "But you don't even know what I-"

"Doesn't matter." I interrupt again. "My answer is yes."

He stared at me in confusion before regaining his composure.

"I am never going to get a full sentence out around you am I?" he asks, shaking his head as he laughs. I laugh along with him, before rubbing my chin in a contemplative way.

"Who knows? Why don't you try again and find out." I tease, turning my body to face him, giving him my full attention.

He rolled his eyes, but turned towards me just the same. In this position, sitting so close to him, I couldn't help but to admire him. Stephen really was a sight for sore eyes. His well-toned muscles. His clear blue eyes. And I had to admit, I was a sucker for that shock of red hair that he spiked up. I was very attracted to the man in front of me, both physically and on a personality level. He was a good a person as he was handsome.

He takes my hand in his, holding it in front of him with his best charm. I laughed at the gesture, but found it adorable nonetheless.

"Michelle," he began, his voice holding a serious tone. "I would be honored if you would accompany me on a date this Saturday night." His tone was playful, but something in his eyes told me that it took a lot for him to ask me this.

I sat for a moment, pretending to think over the words that I had already agreed to. With a playful gleam in my eyes, and with a sudden boldness that I normally would not possess, I lean forward, placing my lips onto his for the briefest of moment before pulling away slightly. I was close enough to feel the heat off of his skin as I smiled up at his shocked expression.

"If you were wondering, that was a yes." I whisper, unable to stop the grin from sliding across my face. At my words, Ste displayed his own grin, before closing the gap once more. This time, the kiss lasted longer, and I smiled into his lips as he gently cradled my face in his hands.

A shrill whistle brought us back to reality, and we reluctantly pulled apart, both of us blushing like mad as John suggestively wiggled his eyebrows. "I take it she said yes, Ste?"

"You could say that." Ste responded, and I brought a hand to my face to cover a laugh.

"Told you!" Evan cried out, beaming at the two of us from where she stood. I rolled my eyes at her, but smiled anyways, that smile only growing in size as a muscular arm came to rest across my shoulders.

(Evan's POV)

I watched my friend from afar, chuckling to myself at her goofy expression. I was glad the Irish man had finally asked Michelle out. I'd have to congratulate them later though. Right now I was too busy being scared out of my wits to really do much of anything.

I looked back at John, my hands placed firmly on my hips.

"You have officially lost your mind."

"Come on Evangeline," John chuckles, "It is not that high."

I stared at the man with a look of bewilderment. For once, I was taller than him, but that was only because I was currently standing on a box that placed me a good eighteen inches off of the ground. And no, in regular terms, it was not the high. But it didn't ease my mind at all knowing what I was about to do.

"Are you one hundred percent positive that I can jump off of this box without getting hurt?" I question, looking at the distance with skepticism. It looked rather high from where I stood.

"Would I put you in a position like this if I thought you couldn't handle it?" John retorted, a knowing tone in his voice. He knew I already knew the answer to that question.

"No, but this is a little different from stairs, John."

He sighed, but went into action, pulling another box up to sit next to mine. I watched as he hoped up onto his own box and turned to face me. I couldn't stop the sarcastic remark that bubbled up inside me.

"You did that just so you'd be taller, didn't you?"

"Evangeline," he warned, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance. I throw my hands up in mock surrender and try my best to focus on what he was saying.

"All you have to do," he began, "is jump. Watch me." As he lowered his stance to something akin to a squat atop the box, I had to bite back a chuckle. I knew the man was muscular, and he couldn't help it, but the position made his butt look huge. Not that I was complaining…

_Stop it! _I mentally chided myself, shaking my head. _This is John. Your trainer. _

I focused my eyes on the position of his stance, memorizing the angles of his knees and back so that I could mimic the position. Once I was certain I could copy him, I lowered myself to the stance. John nodded, approving the placement of my feet and the bend in my knees. "So from here, you just push off like you would for a block in volleyball. Stay on your toes, push off the box and land with both feet, bending your knees to soften your landing." He jumped then, showing exactly what he meant.

Looked easy enough. Then again, he didn't just go through knee surgery. After tearing it from landing wrong. Oh the irony of this exercise.

John stood back up, moving to stand in front of me. "Come on Evan, you got this."

_Evan..._

It was the first time he had shortened my name. It caught me off guard, a look of curiosity crossing my face as I looked at him. He seemed unfazed by my gaze, only smiling confidently up at me. "You won't know unless you try."

Taking a deep breath, I lowered myself. I held the position longer than necessary, building up my nerves for what I was about to do. My mind screamed it's protest, worry gripping my heart, but something about that smile John wore told me I had to try.

With a final inhale, I pushed off of the box and braced myself.

The landing was...shaky to say the least. At the last second, I felt my injured leg pull up slightly, trying to shield it from the ground as I landed. But I quickly regained my balance, forcing myself to stay on my toes. I straightened up, a sneer on my face.

"That was bad."

"But you did it," John laughed. "First jump is always the hardest. I didn't expect perfect form that time. Now try again."

The exercise went like that for about twenty jumps, John encouraging me and my confidence in my knee growing with each go. By the last jump, I could almost do it without making any sound, though I still had trouble letting my knee handle any weight. It wasn't pretty, but it was progress.

A hand landed on my shoulder as I went to get water. John's every present grin showed his contentment in the day's exercises. "Nice work today, Evangeline. You did well." He rose an eyebrow at me before adding, "Maybe you can run next session."

I nearly tackled the man, excitement oozing from every pore of my body. He only laughed, rolling his eyes. "Sweet!" I exclaimed, grinning like mad.

"Get out of here before I find you a taller box," he joked, gathering the equipment from our session to put up. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Michelle sneak another kiss from Ste before heading towards me.

"Ready to go, E?" she asked, smiling widely. I doubted that smile spoke of her happiness to get back home, but I bit back the comment. I'd at least wait until Stephen was out of ear shot before I teased her about her new-found romance.

With a look over my shoulder I found John's form easily, his back to me as he went about cleaning the training area. Something pulled at my heart in the look, though I wasn't entirely sure what to describe it as. Something inside of me wanted to stay longer, even if I was exhausted from the day's exercise. I glanced back at my friend, seeing her curious expression.

"I'll catch up," I started, shrugging as I attempted to be nonchalant. "I just need to talk to John about something real quick." Michelle opened her mouth to say something, but I had already made up my mind. Turning away from her before I could talk myself out of it - or endure Michelle's teasing, whichever I would have encountered first - I walked over to where John had bent down to snatch a discarded towel from the floor. "Hey John?"

"Yeah?" he answered, straightening to look up at me. The bewilderment in his eyes were clear, and as I went to speak I realized I had come over without actually having anything to say, but just the _feeling_ that something should be said. I mentally kicked myself as a blush crossed my cheeks. Of all the rash and impulsive things to do, it had to be this.

"Um..." quickly, I regained my composure, saying whatever the first thing that came to my head was. "I was wondering if you had any exercises that could help with my landing? I really want to work on that."

John seemed surprised by my words, but before I could decipher the look in his eyes it was replaced by an easy smile. "Uh, yeah. I have a ton." Glancing at the clock positioned on the wall, he looked back at me apologetically. "I have another patient coming into the Center in about five minutes. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

"Could I come my later, maybe? I kind of wanted to work on it tonight," I found myself saying before my mind could process my words. "If that's not imposing or anything. If you're busy, it's fine."

"No, that's great. This next guy will be here for a while, but I'm here until late so just stop on by when you can. We can go over the stuff together so you know how to protect your knee." His smile widened slightly. "Can't have you messing it up again and blaming me for not showing you properly."

I rolled my eyes, but was glad for the joke. It put me at ease with John. I have never been nervous talking to him. What was different now?

"Ha, ha. Very funny," I said with a shake of my head. "So how's eight? Just meet you down here?"

"Eight is fine," he assured me, and nodded. "I'll be here. Just come on in like usual."

"Awesome," I said, smiling softly up at him before turning away with a small wave. "See you later."

"See ya," he said with a smirk before turning back to his cleaning. As I walked back to where Michelle stood at the door, I couldn't help the quickened pace of my heart. What was wrong with me? What was it about that smile that sent me walking on air? I've known John for months now, knew he was attractive and a sweet person, but it shouldn't have put butterflies in my stomach at the thought of spending extra time with him. As much as I wanted to get ahead in my exercises, I knew the anticipation for tonight was not for the extra workout. It was solely for seeing John.

With a sigh, I joined my blonde friend, ready for the interrogation that was sure to come the minute we left the Center.

**Alrighty, so here it is! Probably not worth the wait, but like I said, hopefully I will be inspired by this small update to write another chapter sooner rather than later. **  
><strong>Sorry again. Please don't hate me!<br>**

**Also, forgive any mistakes in this one. I probably missed some.  
><strong>

**(I'd usually ask for reviews here, but do I even deserve them after the long, looooong wait? Probably not, but if you feel the need to review, please do. It might help me feel like less of a jerk for going MIA if I knew someone was still reading/enjoying this chapter.)  
><strong>

**Much love,  
><strong>

**Meg  
><strong>


	14. Chapter 14

**An update so soon? Has the apocalypse started?!**

**Nah, I just got really excited about this chapter apparently. Thanks to therealchamps for reviewing (small shout out to you within the actual story, using some of your terminology because I liked it so much) and for the favorites/alerts added to this story! It makes my heart happy to know I didn't lose readers (well, didn't lose everyone) for taking such a large break. Hopefully you will like this chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Uh…nope, still don't own anything, except Evan of course. And the plot. **

(Evan's POV)

When I got back to the Center later that night the parking lot was deserted, save John's truck at the far end of the parking lot. Michelle had stayed behind, content to sit in front of the television and watch the latest episode of some crime drama she had become infatuated with, leaving me to go alone. Not that I really minded. It was just more exercises.

But even as I parked the car I realized the awkwardness of the situation. I was going to be alone with John at the Center, at eight at night to top it all off. Michelle had practically died laughing at me when I told her. It had taken her five minutes to calm down enough to get out comprehensible words, and even then all I could make out was "exercise date" and "freaking hilarious."

I blushed at the memory of the conversation I had with John earlier. Looking back, it was a little ridiculous. I mean, _more exercises_? Was that really all I could have thought of in that moment?

Scoffing at my train of thought, I shook my head. That was all I was here for. I was just a recovering patient who legitimately wanted some extra exercise. I was _not_ there on an exercise date as my blonde friend called it and certainly_ not_ there only to see John. No. I was there for my knee and only my knee.

And I was certain of that all the way to the doors of the Center, but as my hand closed on the cool metal door handle the butterflies returned. The anticipation inside was not just from getting new exercised, no matter how many times I told myself that.

Sighing, I pulled the door open and walked in, ready to get started so I can focus on my knee and not the way John's smile made me feel. Or how deep the blue of his eyes were. Or how strong he-

_Stop it,_ I mentally ordered myself. Jeez, I sounded like a school girl.

The Center was surprisingly dark. It caught me off guard as I stood awkwardly just inside the door, staring into the building. I could see the illuminated main room, though it was not as nearly as bright as the lights during the day. For a moment, I thought maybe John had forgotten our extra session.

But then I could hear the moving of equipment. A low grunt reached my ears and cautiously I followed the noise. When I finally stood in the doorway to the main training room, I had to remind myself to breath.

There was John.

With gym shorts and a tee shirt with the sleeves cut off.

I gulped audibly, watching from my place at the door with what I was sure looked like a stupid expression. I'd never seen John out of his khakis and polo, but here he was in casual work clothes. And he looked good.

Really good.

It wasn't like I didn't know John was muscular. Someone with his build couldn't exactly hide his muscle tone. But seeing it now as he pushed around the equipment (presumably to set up for my session) was a completely different experience. His arms were bare, and every slight movement sent the muscles rippling under his skin. His short stopped just at the knee, but they promised hard muscles that chorded up his legs if his calves were any indication. He looked so comfortable, unrestrained and powerful. And I found my heart began to beat faster as I watched him.

He hadn't seen me yet, and I found it hard for me to announce my presence. Finally, I found the strength to move, and I slowly started towards the man.

He looked up as I neared, smiling from ear to ear. "Hey Evangeline. I'll be with you in just a second. Just let me finish moving this stuff out of the way."

I did my best to smile and nod, still dumbstruck by the show of pure strength. He was moving the mats, each very large and very heavy. He was tossing them around without so much as breaking a sweat.

I gulped again.

When he had finally turned to me, I had mentally prepared myself to act casually. So what if I was completely attracted to the man? He was my trainer. I was here for my knee. I felt if I could just keep repeating that phrase, I could get through this session.

John didn't seem to notice my behavior and clapped his hands together. "Alright then. Let's get started."

**xxxx**

"Five more, Evangeline. You got this."

I never realized how hard it would be to focus on the task at hand when John was standing so close to me. His presence was intoxicating, and it wasn't helping that he was spotting me as I did squats with the bar.

I could practically feel the heat of his skin from how close he was to me, mimicking my movements perfectly as I rose and fell with the weight on my shoulders. He wasn't touching me at all, but he was close enough that only a few inches were all that was between us. And his smell. His cologne was heavenly.

When had I become so infatuated? I mean, yes John is attractive. But come on. To where I couldn't focus? This was getting ridiculous.

As I finished the reps with the bar, John helped me set it back on the racks and I stepped out from the machine, trying to put some distance between me and John. My body screamed at the loss of closeness, but my mind cheered my self-control.

"So what's next?" I asked, wiping my brow with the back of my hand. We had done squats, leg press, and ladders already and I knew he had more exercises up his sleeve.

"Balancing," he answered automatically, going to grab a small mat. My brow furrowed as I watched him, questioning his movements.

"Balancing?"

I could hear the low chuckle as he threw a glance over his shoulder. "Yes, balancing. Balancing is completely a stabilization exercise. Since your landing deals mostly with stabilizing yourself, balancing will help."

"So what were all the strength exercises for?" I asked, feeling the confusion growing.

"What fun is balancing if you aren't tired?" he asked, laughing at my facial expression. "It makes it harder to balance, so we are really going to shock your stability."

He laid out the small mat, and pointed at my shoes. "Off. Socks only."

I complied, rolling my eyes when he swiped the air in front of his nose teasingly. "I do not stink," I laugh, shoving him gently.

"Whatever you say."

As I stepped on the mat, I immediately noticed the material didn't want to support me. My body weight constantly rolled under my feet, the mat moving and shifting under my weight. "What is this thing?"

"Balance mat," came the easy reply. "It throws off your balance and makes it harder to gain control of your limbs. If you can master this thing you will do just fine with jumping." As I found the center of the mat, I looked up at him expectantly.

John led me through exercise after exercise. I stood on one foot and through a ball back and forth with him. I had to alternate between holding my foot in front of me, to the side of me, and behind me. Throughout the entire process I could see my quad muscle quivering, showing its fatigue. But I kept going. John assured me it was alright and pushed me harder.

"Okay, last one," John called, stepping closer to me. "This time, one foot, but close your eyes."

"Okay," I shrugged, closing my eyes and raising my foot.

Immediately, the world tilted out from under me.

As I put a foot back down to steady myself, my eyes shot open. John had moved closer, prepared to catch me if I needed it and was laughing at the bewilderment on my face. "It's harder without your vision."

"No kidding," I muttered, crossing my arms over my chest. "And you didn't tell me this beforehand?"

It was his turn to shrug, a smug smirk lighting up his features. "And miss that expression? Nah. It was priceless."

I went to swat his chest and he moved, laughing at my attempts. "Focus Evangeline."

"Yeah, yeah," I grumbled, sticking my tongue out at him as I took another breath. Closing my eyes once more, I gave myself time to prepare myself before lifting my foot off the ground.

He was not kidding. It was much more difficult to balance when my eyes were shut and I struggled to find my center as my foot wobbled back and forth on the fickle mat beneath me. When I finally found my balance, it became a challenge of holding.

Internally, I ordered myself to stay calm.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

"Nice job, Evangeline."

At the sound of his voice, my heart quickened. He had moved closer. Even if I couldn't see him, I could feel it.

I didn't answer, knowing I had to concentrate to hold the balance. That didn't stop John from commenting on my stance.

"Your quad is really tired, but you're doing great." He paused, humming lightly to himself. "Don't lock your knee. It will make it easier to give if it's locked." I adjusted my stance, putting more bend in my knee and sighing slightly at the release of some of the pressure. John hummed his approval. "Much better."

"Piece of cake," I muttered sarcastically, earning a laugh from the other man. The sound rumbled from his chest and I smiled. But the smile disappeared as quickly as it appeared when I lost control over my knee. Flailing my hands out, I attempted to find my center again but kept throwing myself off. With a small yelp, I fell forward, eyes flying open in panic.

Two strong arms wrapped around my middle, stopping my descent immediately, and I was pulled into John's body. I groaned as I gripped tightly to his arms, laying my head squarely on his chest as the relief of not falling to the ground swept over me. John just laughed.

"Easy killer. Don't hurt yourself."

"It's your fault," I groaned, glancing up at him with a mock glare. "You totally distracted me."

John scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Did not," he countered, setting me back up on my feet but not moving away. Not that I was complaining. His arms stayed securely around my torso and I could feel my heart quicken. Was I the only one who could hear it?

"Yes you did," I replied, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

"It's not my fault you are clumsy," he teased, the cheesy smile coming to rest on his face easily. I brought my hands up to stop at his shoulders, shoving gently but not with enough force to push him away. I didn't want him to let go. I was surprisingly comfortable where I was at the moment.

"Is your knee alright?" he questioned, concern filling his eyes briefly. I nod quickly, sighing as the relief filled his features.

"Yeah, my legs are just jelly right now," I joked. It didn't hit me until after the words had left my mouth that maybe the reason for my shaky knees was not my fatigue. When his arms tightened around me, it passed through my mind that maybe John didn't want to pull away either. As I smiled up at him, I could see something behind those eyes of his, something that just barely peaked out of the deep blue color. Even with how close we were standing, I couldn't quite decipher the emotion there.

I gave an awkward laugh, feeling suddenly out of place. "I should probably get some water," I mumbled halfheartedly. I went to pull away, but as I moved John moved with me, pulling me closer in one swift motion. Quickly, before I realized what was happening, John leaned down and claimed my lips with his.

Somewhere in my head the rational part of me was screaming to pull away. Unfortunately for it, the vast majority of my brain wasn't listening to reason. I was lost in the intense feeling I got from the kiss. His lips moved against mine flawlessly with an ease that usually only came with practice. His arms tightened around my waist, pulling me even closer until there was not space between us. My arms followed suit, moving up his shoulders – his very muscular and defined shoulders – to wrap around his neck and keep him close.

I couldn't get enough of the man in front of me. His scent filled my nose and his skin radiated beneath my fingertips, sending shock waves through every part of me whenever our shin brushed against one another. I was swept away, drinking in his presence and his touch, when his tongue slid against my bottom lip. Immediately I responded, allowing him to deepen the kiss.

As soon as it started, however, John pulled away, pressing his forehead to mine. We looked up at each other, panting and breathing heavily. I could see the conflict in his eyes as his hands rubbed slow circles on my lower back. Slowly, he shook his head.

"I'm your trainer," he said softly, the words hanging in the air between us. I knew what he was trying to say. It was probably unethical for a trainer to have a relationship with the patient. Heck, it was crazy to think about what just happened.

"I know," I answered, my words barely above a whisper. John closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," he started, his brow pulling together. "I shouldn't have done that."

One of my hands slid down to cup his cheek, and I could feel his jaw tense under my palm. "I kissed back, so it's not just you to blame," I reasoned, my thumb seeming to move across his skin on its own. My gaze dropped to his collarbone, peeking out from beneath his tee that had been disheveled in the kiss. _The kiss. _

And what a kiss it was. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest as I did my best to slow my breathing. I was sure John could feel it, our chests still held tight against one another. Usually, I would have been mortified, but it just felt...right. Like I'd done it a thousand times. And would do it a thousand more. But it was still so new, so different. With Justin...

_No,_ I thought, mentally shaking the thought away. _I'm not thinking about him right now. _This wasn't about my ex. This was about the very confusing relationship between John and I.

One hand left my waist and rested atop my hand, stilling its motions and trapping my hand there and effectively bringing my thoughts back to the man that stood in front of me. I looked up to see his eyes back open, watching me. With a deep sigh, he shook his head.

"We can't."

"Why not?" I asked before I could stop the words, hating the way my voice sounded to my ears. It rang with my disapproval of his statement.

"Because it's not right," came the gentle reply. He was fighting the words though. He was saying them because he had to, but he didn't want to. I could see it in his face. And I knew he was right. Regardless of the logic, I shook my head slowly.

"I know. But it felt right," I whispered sadly. The sadness reflected in his eyes at my words and I had to fight the shuddered that wanted to travel down my spine. I didn't like that look. I never wanted to see that much pain on his face again. It ate at me inside to think we had to be in this situation at all.

_Leave it to me to pursue a relationship I can't have._

"I know," he admitted, giving me a weak smile. Slowly, he began to pull away, untangling his body from mine. Instantly I felt the loss of contact, my heart protesting the lack of closeness and warmth.

"We need to talk," John said slowly, glancing at his watch. Nine o'clock. "Can you stay a little longer?" he asked, watching me closely. Without hesitation I nodded. I knew if I left now, it would make things worse. We needed to hash this out before it got out of hand or before one of us got hurt. Plus, going home now I knew my face would give the night's events away to Michelle, and I did not want to deal with her questions right now. I was nervous, but it had to be done. We needed to talk. Now.

"I'll stay," I confirmed further. He nodded, taking my hand gently and pulling me in the direction of his office.

**Woo, whirlwind!**

**That was interesting (right?). Hopefully y'all don't kill me for the (slight) cliffhanger.  
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**Meg  
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	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the delayed update. My life is revolving around school and my teachers all decided that this week would be a great one to start giving tons of work. Hooray.**

**But enough of my sob story! Onto the drama that is unfolding in Evan and John's lives. A lot of dialogue in this chapter, but hopefully you will still enjoy it!**

**Thank you to everyone who reviews/alerted/favorited (seriously, this should just be added to the dictionary as a real word, since we all use it) this story. Hope this one doesn't disappoint!  
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**Disclaimer: Y'all, do I really have to say it? I own diddly squat. **

(Evan's Pov)

When I envisioned John's office, I figured it would be like any other office. An unintimidating, slightly hectic but functional work place with stacks of paperwork here and there. No biggie. But as I followed John upstairs to his room I found myself slowly growing more and more nervous. The anxious energy inside of me was steadily growing and I knew that if I took my eyes off of John's back I would fall into a state of nervous laughter.

_No big deal. It's just an office. Of the guy you just kissed. Who happens to be your physical therapist._

Sarcastic inner-monologue aside, I kept my gaze on the man in front of me and told myself to relax. This had to be done. We needed to talk.

What a mess. One minute it was just exercises, the next a full-fledged embrace. My heart saw nothing wrong with this. John was definitely had the whole package: great body, nice smile, a sense of humor, and the personality girls dreamt of. What more could I ask for in a man? But my head was growing in volume, reminding me that for one, it was highly unethical to date your therapist and two, was I really ready for a relationship, regardless of who it was? Whether I wanted to acknowledge it or not, the fact remains that I had just gotten out of a serious relationship with a man I thought I was going to marry. I feared this new attraction to John could be a rebound reaction, but somehow I knew it was different. Somehow, my heart was overriding my head. I wanted this. Badly. John was a great guy. And I was beginning to think having a guy like him in my life wasn't such a bad thing.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost ran into John when he suddenly stopped to fetch his key from his pockets. He heard my slight gasp and chuckled as he threw a glance over his shoulder. "Been walking long?" he teased, jiggling the key into the lock and releasing the bolt that kept the door closed.

"About five months," came my sarcastic reply.

John laughed quietly as he ushered me into the dark room. With the flip of a switch the room was lit, displaying the typical office. I quickly made my way to sit on the desk, refusing to place myself in the plush chairs provided for visitors. I didn't need the reminder that I was John's patient while we were having this conversation. John in turn took a seat in the swivel chair set behind the dark wood desk, his hands coming to steeple on his desk, providing a resting place for his chin.

For a moment an awkward silence seeped into the air between us, neither of us really knowing what to say. Finally, John cleared his throat.

"You know we can't do this, right?"

I sighed, nodding my head when he glanced up at me. "Doesn't mean I don't want to."

"You have no idea," he muttered. When I looked at him questioningly he averted his gaze, but not before I caught the slightest flush of red spreading across his cheeks and nose.

"It's not right, me being your therapist."

"It feels right through," I insisted, crossing my arms. John just rolled his eyes, though the gesture didn't quite lighten the mood. "Don't you think that we could try?"

"I think if we are serious about trying, we need to wait." John returned his eyes to me and pinned me with the no-nonsense gaze. He wasn't going to budge on this.

Didn't mean I couldn't try.

"What's the point of waiting when we will just date later?" I asked, surprising myself with my boldness.

"The fact that what just happened is highly unethical is the point," John countered quickly. "And the fact that you're still not over your ex."

I stiffened at the words, my eyes falling to look at the floor. I knew he was right. I was still dealing with that pain. I was much better than I was five months ago, but it was still relatively soon. "Let's not talk about it," I said quietly, unable to look at him.

"When you are ready to talk about it, I'll be here," he quickly added, concern in his voice. "But I don't want to rush you into a relationship when you are still hurting from that. I'm not willing to be a rebound."

My head shot up. "I am _not_ using you as a rebound," I said firmly, the words coming out more defensive than I meant for them to sound. John immediately held up a hand, showing he had not meant it that way.

"I'm just saying I want you to be ready so neither of us get hurt," he amended softly. With slight hesitation, I nodded.

"So what now?" I questioned, meeting his gaze steadily.

"Nothing," was the answer he gave, a gentle shake of his head following the word.

"We just pretend it never happened?"

"No," John corrected, a scoff leaving his lips. "I couldn't forget it if I tried." I blushed at the words but John continued on. "We just have to keep this a secret until you are cleared. If you are ready for dating again after you're medically cleared, then we can try something then. But only when you are no longer my patient and only when you are emotionally ready. We take this one step at a time."

"This is going to suck, isn't it?" I commented, smiling widely when John barked in laughter.

"Yeah, pretty much," he agreed, moving to stand up. I followed the movement, coming to stand toe to toe with him. He smirked at me, shaking his head. "You aren't going to make this easy on me are you?"

"Probably not," I admitted with a grin on my face. "But it's not going to be all smiles and sunshine for me either."

Even with the prospect of holding off on the feelings that seemed to have sprung up between us, we couldn't help but smile at one another. It was going to be very interesting for the next couple of months.

"Can I ask you something?" he said softly, not backing away from me as I expected him to. When I nodded, he gently took a hold of my face on his hands. I nearly swooned at the soft touch. "Can I have one last kiss for the road?" His eyes sparkled with his amusement, and I couldn't stop the laugh that passed my lips.

"Why not?" I answered, struggling to keep the smile off my face.

Without another word he closed the distance between us, pressing his lips to mine. My head nearly floated away from my body with the sensation of his lips against mine, my arms instinctively looping around his neck to hold myself against him. His arms circled my waist in kind, keeping me close as he deepened the kiss. A soft sigh worked its way up out of my throat and his grip tightened. When air became an issue, we broke apart, resting our foreheads together to keep contact.

"This is going to kill me," he whispered, a groan leaving his chest as I laughed.

"Yeah, I know."

I untangled myself, slipping away from the warmth of John's arms and stepping back slightly to give us some room. "I better head home. Michelle will probably be freaking out if I don't leave soon."

John nodded silently, sitting down in his chair. I turned and headed for the door, feeling his eyes watching me the entire way out.

xxxx

(John's POV)

"You what?!"

I pulled the phone away from my ear, wincing at the volume that was emitted from the ear piece. Once the voice of the other end calmed down, I gingerly placed it to my ear again. "I know. I messed up."

The man on the other end scoffed. "I didn't say that. It's obvious you care for the girl. But this just got really complicated."

"I know Ste," I replied, pinching the bridge of my nose. When had I started getting a headache? Evangeline had left about half an hour ago but I still couldn't calm my nerves. I had tried to focus on paperwork, but gave up when I realized I was staring at the same file for twenty minutes without understanding what I was reading. My mind just wouldn't focus, constantly straying to the kiss I had shared with Evangeline. Well, both kisses. The way my hands fit in the small of her back. The way her soft lips felt against my own. She was like a drug and I was a hopeless addict, already craving more.

But I couldn't have more. She was my patient. That was enough to be considered unethical. Briefly I wondered if I could be fired for getting romantically involved with a charge. My guess was yes.

"Well?"

I felt my eyebrows pulled together at the question. "Well what?"

"How was it?" Ste asked. I could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "Did she respond?"

"Ste this is serious."

"I'm being serious," he insisted, "It's important to take her reaction into account to figure out what you're going to do." There was a pause before he added to his statement. "And besides, Michelle and I have a wager going on for who would make the first move. Tell me you initiated it."

"The rumors were true then? Gingers have no soul?" I quipped, shaking my head. Leave it to Ste to joke at a time like this.

"Just answer the question lover boy."

"Yes, okay? She responded and I initiated both of them," I muttered in defeat.

"Both?!" Again the phone was pulled away from my ear as Ste loudly parroted my statement.

"Yes, both. I kissed her twice. Now can we please try to figure out what I'm going to do?" It was only then that I realized I was pacing.

"What do you mean?" the Irishman questioned. "Not much you can do until she's cleared."

With a groan, I pressed my forehead against the nearest wall. "I'm an idiot."

"That you are. But Evan isn't going anywhere. She likes you as much as you like her," the redhead continued. "Don't know why but she does." He teased.

"Ste…" I warned, banging my head lightly against the chilled white wall. It did little to ease the pain beneath my temples.

"Well John what can I tell you? You're stuck until she's no longer your patient."

"I know," I sighed, the frustration growing inside. "I just…I couldn't stop myself. And now I've really screwed up."

"You didn't screw up," the other man assured, "You just jumped the gun."

All Ste was met with was a groan. This was just so messed up. Part of me regretted the impulsive moves on my part. The other, louder part though was still hung up on how utterly _right_ it felt. It was like I had been missing her kiss, her touch, just _her_, and when we finally connected I didn't want to let go. What else could I do though? No matter how right it felt or how mutual the feelings were, we could still get in a load of trouble for "inappropriate behavior".

Why did I call Ste again? Was this supposed to make me feel better? Well, it wasn't working.

"Cheer up, Johnny Boy. At least you finally found someone you're interested in." Ste was practically ecstatic, though I wasn't so convinced that this was a good thing. After all, these next few months were going to suck, especially when I see Evangeline so many times a week. Not being able to touch her like I wanted was going to drive me insane.

I gave a humorless chuckle to the comment, closing my eyes to the world around me. "Yeah. Too bad she's the only one who's off limits."

xxxx

(Evan's POV)

"He what?!"

I threw up my hands, trying to stop the excited blonde in front of me. The ice cream that had been making its way to her mouth via the large spoon lay forgotten in the bowl as she stared at me with wide eyes. "I said don't freak out," I reminded her, a shake of my head accompanying my words.

"You expect me to keep to that when you tell me John kissed you?" Michelle asked sarcastically. She had a point.

"It's not that big of a deal," I attempted to insist, though the words sounded false even to me. It was a big deal. A _really_ big deal.

Michelle's raised eyebrow was evidence enough for that.

"Man, Ste will never let this go now," she muttered, my brows furrowing in confusion.

"What?"

"He won our bet since John kissed you. If you would have sucked it up and made a move I could have gotten a free foot massage. Now I'm going to have to watch some freaking scary movie." Her nose scrunched in disgust. She hated scary movies. But I wasn't focused on her discomfort. I was more focused on the word "bet" that was in that sentence.

"You made a bet with me and John?" I asked incredulously, staring at my friend and teammate as if she had grown two heads.

"Yep," she shrugged. "Just to see who would make the first move."

"Gee, thanks." The sarcasm was thick in my voice.

"Anytime."

"But back to the issue," I said with a roll of my eyes. "We talked about it and we know we can't do anything until I'm done with therapy."

"Why not?" Michelle asked, earning a raised eyebrow from me.

"Because he's my trainer," was the immediate response. "It's probably illegal knowing my luck."

"But you could be like Romeo and Juliet! Forbidden love," Michelle cooed, clapping her hands together. She was so enjoying this.

"Romeo and Juliet killed themselves."

"So I picked a bad example. It doesn't matter," Michelle waved away the negative fact of the star-crossed lovers' deaths like she was swatting a fly. "I still think you could make it work."

"I don't want to get John in trouble," I said quietly, looking down at my hands which were clasped in front of me. "We agreed to wait. That's what we are going to do."

"You know how hard it will be now that you admitted feelings?" Michelle kept on. When I nodded, she gave a soft sigh. Leaning forward on her elbows, she shook her head. "What else is bothering you, E? Something else is getting to you."

I looked away, focusing on the kitchen cabinets to my right instead of answering the question. I didn't want to sound weak, didn't want to sound like a woman scorned, but I knew I had to talk to Michelle about it. With a deep breath, I closed my eyes. "We wanted to make sure I was ready. Emotionally. John wanted to make sure he wasn't a rebound."

Michelle was quiet for a moment, taking in what I had said. "Well, maybe waiting is the best thing. I hadn't even considered Justin coming into play."

"I don't want him anymore, Michelle," I insisted. She hadn't accused me but the overwhelming urge to take the defensive consumed me. "A part of me will always love him, but I don't _love_ him anymore. But until I can completely get over him, and can talk about what happened without feeling so freaking hurt by it still, I don't think it is fair to John. I'd never use John like that, but he's right. It's too soon. No matter how attracted I am to John."

Michelle only nodded, before voicing her agreement when she realized I still hadn't looked back at her and had missed the silent affirmation. "Then I guess therapy just got interesting."

The lighthearted comment evoked a laugh from me, my eyes finding her smiling face. "You can't tell anyone about this," I reminded her. "Ste probably will know, but that is it. No one else. I'm not willing to get John in trouble."

"You secret's safe with me," she assured, standing up with her now empty bowl of ice cream. "Just try not to jump the guy in your sessions. No one wants to see that."

I swatted her arm playfully, laughing when she yelped. "I'm not going to jump him."

"Yeah, sure. We'll see how long that lasts," Michelle said with a smirk, eyebrows wiggling suggestively. Another resounding smack to the arm led to another yelp, though this time my face was blood red. She was right, though. It would be increasingly more difficult to act like nothing had happened between John and I. The thought of seeing him again had the nervous butterflies flipping in my stomach and my heart quickening. If we had to do drills where he was up close and personal, like some of the weight drills where he spots me, standing inches behind me as I worked, sometimes his hand almost touching me…

Oh boy. I'm in trouble.

**Probably going to have a time jump (small one, maybe a few weeks to a month) in the next chapter. I'll make a note at the beginning. Still, it won't be anything over a month in time. Just moving the story along.**

**Review, lovely readers!  
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**Meg  
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	16. Chapter 16

**Ah, school work. You never let up do you?**

**I **_**finally **_**have the needed time to update, after about two weeks of stress. And to think I thought I had come out of the hectic weeks. Oh, how my professors surprise me. And with midterms on the approaching horizon at that!**

**I used a song in this as well, that doesn't necessarily have anything to do with the chapter or plot (though it could…if you squint), but I just needed some musical inspiration for one part. For anyone who cares, it is "Chalk Outline" by Three Days Grace off the **_**Transit of Venus**_** CD (So, so, SO good. Love this CD). If you need some awesome music, there you go!**

**Anyways, I hope you all enjoy this update! Thanks for all the reviews; I smile every time I get an email. Seriously. Big, cheesy grin and all. I apologize if this chapter doesn't live up to expectations…it was hard to get out for some reason, so I hope my writing hasn't suffered from it. We'll see I guess. I hope it works for you!**

**Enjoy!**

(Evan's POV)

This. Sucks. So. Much.

Three months. It's been three months since "The Incident" as Michelle and Ste have lovingly called the kiss shared between John and me. Three months of awkward tension and obvious attraction. Three months of pure torture day in and day out by the name of "physical therapy".

I was nearly jumping out of my skin at the moment with John so close to me. He _knew _what his proximity was doing to me and my emotions. As if he couldn't see the slight tremble in my hands as I wiped my brow of the sweat that had begun to form there from the multiple reps on the leg press. As if he couldn't hear my heart beat growing louder and louder, that had nothing to do with the exercises. And yet here he was, sitting right by my head and talking to me.

What a jerk.

"That's twelve. Good job, Evangeline." The grin on his face spoke volumes. He was enjoying himself.

"What's next?" I huffed, propping myself up on my elbows.

"You'll see," came the teasing reply. A groan was barely suppressed as the man in front of me laughed at my glare.

I allowed the weights to settle before hopping up, eyeing him as he stood and started to walk off towards the mats. I snuck a glance at my teammate, watching as her and Ste snickered at my expression. With a new found determination, I set off after the muscular man. I wasn't about to let him affect me like this. Not today.

"Alright," he said, stopping to glance at me. "Let's have the square of death."

This time I did nothing to suppress the groan.

The square of death was a series of squats and shuffles, moving in a square. Twenty-five squats, five shuffles to the right. Twenty-five squats, five shuffles forward. And so on until an entire square was made. It wasn't horrible until you reached the level of strength I had in the healing process, in which an elastic band was placed around my legs, just above my knees, to add resistance for the shuffles, and a weight vest was placed on me to add resistance for the squats. It was hard work, always leaving me a sweaty mess afterwards, and it has quickly become John's favorite exercise.

"Do I have to?" I questioned, knowing full and well what his answer would be before the words even left my mouth.

"Yes," John chuckled, rolling his eyes when I pouted. "It's not _that_ bad."

"Yes it is. Hence square of 'death'," I countered, placing air quotations on the main word of the name. "You know I hate this exercise."

"And yet you usually don't complain," he countered. A valid point. I usually just suck it up and do the drill without whining. But today I felt much more stubborn. Probably because he had been teasing relentlessly. Where was the fun if I didn't give him a hard time in return?

"Do it for me?" he asked with false innocence, holding up the weight vest to help me shrug the object on over my shirt. When I hesitated, he jiggled the vest in an encouraging manner.

I heaved a dramatic sigh before strapping the vest on and moving to grab a band. "Fine, but you owe me," I muttered, throwing a look over my shoulder as I found the correct band for the exercise.

"I owe you? What more do I owe than your health?" he questioned, and I couldn't stop the smile from inching across my face.

This was too easy.

"Dinner," I supplied teasingly, laughing loudly at the shocked expression on his face. His jaw hung open at my words. I had never mentioned the idea of dating since that night when we kissed. We had agreed to wait, so we had reframed from talking about any relationship aspects. Sure, we flirted, but nothing else. But I couldn't stop the comment from being voiced. His face was just too priceless to pass up the golden opportunity he presented.

Ste cackled in the background, having a clear view of John's expression from where he sat as the muscular man in front of me struggled to form words, his mouth opening and closing without any sound. "Oi! Nice fish impersonation!"

He quickly composed himself, clearing his throat and glaring at the Irish man. "Shut up!" he hollered, a light blush blooming on his cheeks as he shook his head, Ste nearly doubled over in laughter.

He was trying to shrug it off, but the damage was done. I smiled at my victory. Serves him right for teasing me all day. If he wanted to play that game, I was willing to join in.

"You alright there?" I joked, laughing even harder when he glared in my direction. The glare slowly melted into a smirk, however, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"Just do the square, Evan," he said with a shake of his head, the smirk still in place. As I positioned myself in the open space, making sure to leave enough room for me to move around, I mentally noted the name choice. He never called me Evan, always calling me by my full name, except for after the incident, when it was just the two of us. I began to take the use of the shortened name as a sign of John's emotions changing. Evangeline was straight business. Evan was something more.

With a smile plastered across my face, even in my annoyance of the taxing exercise, I began the drill.

**xxx**

"Evan, are you sure you don't want me to go with you?"

I glanced up at Michelle as she leaned against the counter, watching me with concern. She was still worrying, even if I had done this a thousand times before my surgery.

Finishing with the knot in my shoelaces and standing up, I shook my head. "Michelle, I'll be fine." I could practically feel her hesitation as I tugged the tee shirt down further to cover the top of my shorts, my hands fixing my ponytail next.

"I don't like it," was her only response.

"Honestly, Michelle, I've ran by myself before," I insisted, busying myself with finding a suitable playlist on my iPod to listen to.

"I know, but not since your knee messed up. What if you need help?"

"I have my phone," I supplied, holding up said device to emphasize that point.

"But what if something major happens and you can't get a hold of me or anyone else?" Seriously, the girl was on the verge of panic. She really didn't like the idea of my running alone, but I still didn't see the big deal. She knew where I would be. I always ran the same roads, moved along the same routes and took roughly the same amount of time for each run. It's become almost clockwork by now. The only difference this time was that I would be doing it alone. The sun would be setting in a little over two hours. If I wanted to beat the dark, I needed to be heading out pretty quickly.

"I'll be okay, Michelle. If I need anything, I will call you." Even with the determination in my voice, I could see her concern in her eyes.

"She's right, babe." I looked up at the input of the Irishman currently situated in our kitchen. He was over for a movie night with Michelle, a weekly ritual they had developed. Tonight's movie of choice was _Horrible Bosses_, and I knew Michelle was relieved it wasn't a horror film. Last week _Insidious_ had been shown, and the girl had nearly broken the skin on Ste's forearm from her nails gripping him in fear. "She'll be fine. John would not have cleared her to run if she couldn't handle it."

Michelle was still hesitant. "But what if-"

"Michelle," Ste cut in, standing up to gently take the tall blonde in his arms, "nothing is going to happen."

"I just have a bad feeling," Michelle muttered, crossing her arms over her chest (which was rather difficult in the man's embrace). He kissed her cheek softly, and I smiled lightly at the tender gesture.

"I will have my brace, and I am wearing my brightest clothes. It's perfectly safe," I assured her, smiling slightly when she sighed. I knew that sigh. It was the sound of her giving in.

"And I don't want you to miss movie night," I added just for an extra point, to which she rolled her eyes.

"Fine, fine. Get to running before I change my mind," she grumbled, waving me away as Ste laughed lightly.

"Be back soon," I called as I practically skipped out the door, wanting to go before the girl had time to rethink letting me go. The door closed firmly behind me and I smiled at the sensation of fresh air filling my lungs.

I needed this run.

**xxx**

_You left me here like a chalk outline_

_On the sidewalk, waiting for the rain to wash away_

_Wash away_

_You keep coming back to the scene of the crime_

_But the dead can't speak and there's nothing left to say anyway_

_All you left behind_

_Is a chalk outline_

Slowing to a walk, I popped the right ear bud out of my ear, taking in the quiet surroundings of the somewhat deserted roads. I breathed deeply, slowing my heartbeat down as I smiled. God, it felt good to run. I had always enjoyed the process, but now, after going through surgery and a period where I just didn't have the ability or strength to run, I appreciated the activity much more.

Looking up at the sky, I figured I had about an hour before dark. I had cut my run a little today, taking a shorter run than usual. Partly because I was tired from the workout earlier, and partly because I was sure Michelle was freaking out about me being out alone. She was so stubborn, but I understood. She relied heavily on her gut instincts, and she had mentioned she had a bad feeling about it. The only problem was that her gut instincts also included worries. I appreciated her worrying about me, but I had to do this. Otherwise, I'd be handled with kid-gloves for the rest of my life, people always being too careful around me. I had to prove to her I would be fine, and if the lack of soreness in my knee was any indication, I'd say the run was a success. Still, I was surprised she had changed her mind about me going off alone. I figured Ste would have been sent out about ten minutes after I left to fetch me, but he must have convinced her I was fine. I chuckled at the thought. They certainly were cute together.

I nodded along to the song playing from my iPod as I headed back towards home, enjoying the music and the cooler night air. The cool down process would take a good 20 minute walk back home, but it was enough to give me time to get my heart back to a normal rate and to regulate my breathing.

Tugging at my brace subconsciously, I started back. I was vaguely aware of the car approaching behind me, hearing the crunch of the tires on the pavement, and I turned to catch sight of it. I was on the sidewalk, but I still hated when cars passed me. It made me uncomfortable. I've seen stories of people getting hurt because they weren't paying attention, and I did not need any other reason to be in physical therapy.

The car passed without much thought, and I sighed lightly, looking down at my iPod to change the track. It wasn't until I heard a voice that I realized the car had stopped.

"E?"

I froze, nearly dropping my iPod in my shock. I knew that voice. Deep, warm tones that I use to love, that I thought I had forgotten. Glancing up, my eyes met the brown ones that had haunted my sleep for months. My mouth opened on its own accord as I gasped, a name escaping my lips in a whisper.

"Justin…"

He stood next to the car that had passed, a car that was different from the one he use to drive, and that had been pulled over to the side of the road. The door stood open, and I could hear the soft buzz of music drifting through the air. He stood on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets, a pair of jeans covering his legs and a shirt with the gym – _his_ gym – logo plastered across the front. _He must have just gotten off work_, I thought, before suddenly being jolted into action.

I started to back-peddle, my head shaking almost violently. No. I did _not _want this. I did _not _want to see him. Not now. Why did he feel the need to show up in my life when I was finally okay?

"E, wait," he called, stepping towards me. "Just talk to me."

"I have nothing to say," I replied back, slightly regretting the sharp tone when I noticed the pain flash in his eyes. But I was not going to stay here and talk to Justin. I couldn't. I turned away, starting off in the opposite direction. So what if it would take me longer to get home? It'd be worth it if I could just avoid this situation.

A soft hand on my arm stopped me in my tracks. "Please, Evan, just ten minutes. I just want to talk to you," he said in a gentle tone, one I used to love listening to. One he would use in moments with just us. "I promise I'm not trying anything. I just want to know how you are doing," he continued, moving to stand directly in front of me.

After a moment of staring down at my shoes, I finally got the courage to meet his gaze. Looking up, I studied his face, memories and memories flooding my mind as I did so. He looked the same as I remembered, no immediate change. But I felt as if this was a stranger in front of me. This wasn't the Justin I knew. No, this was a different person. But his eyes were showing nothing but truth, and I felt myself giving in. I couldn't deny that I was curious as to how he has been.

With a barely-there nod, I looked away. "Okay. Where?"

"There's a diner just down the road," he commented, nodding in that direction. "I can drive us there."

"I'd rather walk," was my immediate response.

"That's fine," he amended quickly. "Let me just park."

With a soft nod, he was off, jogging back to his car and jumping into the waiting seat. He quickly drove away, and I watched as he pulled into the diner he had mentioned, just off to the right, maybe a quarter of a mile down the empty road. For a moment, I thought of running, of taking off towards the house and forgetting this entire meeting. But as I watched, I knew I needed to talk to him, if not just for my mental health. We needed to sit down and have a conversation, just to prove that we could. If I could get through this, I can get through anything. If I could get through this, I could officially say I was ready for whatever would happen with John.

With a new determination, albeit still slightly wary, I headed towards the diner, where I could see Justin standing, waiting for me.

**Cliff-hanger. Dun, dun dun!**

**Ah, I like the set up though. Didn't see that coming, did you? (If you did, kudos. You are brilliant!)**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed it!**

**Much love, **

**Meg**


	17. Chapter 17

**Ah, here it is. Happy (belated) Halloween everyone! Can you believe it is November? Where has the year gone?**

**I'm applying for spring semester classes in just a few days, it's almost time for thanksgiving, people are getting geared up for exams here at school…goodness the time flies. And I only have three semesters in college left after this semester! Scary!**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Blah, blah…I own nothing…blah, blah…**

**Chapter 17**

Fiddling with the cup of coffee set before me, I couldn't bring myself to look up at the man across from me. Why did I have to be in this situation? Why did I have to run into _him_ of all people? My cell phone sat next to my iPod, both in sight but ignored for the moment. I silently willed the phone to light up with a worried Michelle calling, but I knew I was still an hour ahead of schedule. I just _had_ to shorten my run today. If I had stuck to the normal length, I wouldn't have seen Justin. I wouldn't be trapped in this dinner sitting across from the man in question and struggling to look up from the drink between my hands.

_Damn my luck._

"You sure that you don't want anything other than coffee?" he asked, fiddling with his glass of water.

I shook my head in response, watching the warm liquid swirl in my cup as we fell silent. What was there to say? What could be said? This was stupid, a waste of my time. We were both clearly uncomfortable, the quiet quickly becoming tense between us.

The silence had stretched on for five minutes before Justin cleared his throat. "Are you not even going to look at me?"

Stubbornly, I kept my gaze on the coffee. He sighed, but continued anyways, attempting to get me to open up.

"How have you been?"

"Just fine," I answered, sipping the drink. I didn't want to be here. I didn't want to be talking to Justin like nothing had ever happened between us. I didn't want to chit chat like old friends after everything. The breakup, my surgery, John…it was too much.

"You sure?"

"Yep."

He hesitated, just for a moment. "What happened to your knee?" he asked as I felt myself bristle.

"Nothing you need to worry about," I muttered.

"E," he began again, a pleading note to his tone. "Please, tell me what happened. When did you have surgery? What caused your injury?"

I finally raised my eyes to meet his, and I found myself biting my lip. This man had been such a huge part of my life, and I couldn't just erase it. But how was I supposed to tell him I got hurt because I had been stupid and practiced in the rain, the same night he ended our relationship? He would think of me as a fool, or worse, as a girl who was still hung up on him. I didn't want that. I was stronger than that. I was not hung up on him…maybe just stuck on the pain, but I no longer wanted our relationship.

But even as I looked at him, saw that he too had changed since I last saw him, I could see his concern. He truly wanted to know how I was. But the stubborn part of me told me he had no right to that information, not since he walked out of my life.

"I tore my ACL," I spoke quietly, intending to only reveal that much. He stiffened at the words, shaking his head.

"How did it happen?"

"Practicing my jump serve."

"Just a bad landing, then?"

"You could say that."

He shook his head again. "I'm sorry, E. I can't imagine what that was like. But you're running again. You must be close to returning to the court, right? How many months have you been in rehab?"

"Eight months. I'm probably going to be cleared next month."

"Eight months…" Justin repeated, and the connection flashed behind his eyes as he calculated the time in his head. It wasn't the only thing that had that specific time frame, and before he could even say it I knew he would realize that it was the same amount of time that we had been broken up. I mentally cursed myself for answering the question in the first place, but it was out now. "Evangeline, you didn't…you didn't go out and…" he struggled to ask, but I knew the question.

_You didn't go out and practice the night we broke up, did you?_

I looked down, knowing my silence would be answer enough. I could bring myself to lie, though my mind screamed for me to supply one. "It's not like I was planning on getting hurt," I muttered weakly, cringing when he cursed under his breath.

"But you had already hurt your knee in the match prior to that." I looked up at that, meeting his gaze. He remembered that match? It seemed so long ago, that I had assumed he would have forgotten it. Forgotten me.

He took advantage of my stunned reaction and continued. "Didn't you think you could further damage your knee?"

"I wasn't thinking clearly," I admitted, running a hand over my neck as I finally broke the eye contact. This was getting too personal. _Please drop it_, I begged. _Please_.

He reached out, touching my arm gently and causing me to flinch. I shot a look in his direction, one that should have made him retract his hand as if burned, but he had set his jaw and refused to back down from the contact.

"I'm sorry Evangeline."

Well…that was unexpected.

I blinked, staring at him stupidly as his eyes softened. "I'm sorry this happened to you. I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you when it did. I'm sorry that-"

"Stop it, Justin," I whispered, shaking my head.

"But E, I-"

"It's not your fault that this happened. I was stupid and pushed myself."

"Because of your emotional state," he countered.

"Doesn't matter," I insisted. "I made my decision." My mind flew to John, and a small upturn of the corner of my lips followed the train of thought. "Besides, some good has come from it."

He looked at me questioningly but said nothing to provoke further explanation. He pulled back his hand, leaning back to rest again in his seat.

Trying to get the subject to change, I voiced a question of my own. "How is the gym going?"

He smiled slightly at the mention of his place. "It's going pretty well now that it's up and running. Plenty of members already."

"That's great," I added, nodding as I took another sip of my coffee. "I knew it'd take off once it started up."

"Yeah, you always said it would," he commented, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. The sound was familiar, yet foreign at the same time. It was how I remembered it, but it was different. And it no longer sent butterflies soaring in my stomach. I was somewhat surprised at the realization, but then again, I wasn't. That reaction seemed to be reserved for another now, one with ocean blue eyes and a dimpled smile.

"Michelle's dating," I mentioned causally. Justin grinned at that. He knew of the blonde's trouble with finding a guy. It had been the subject of a lot of conversations between the three of us.

"Oh yeah? Who's caught her interest?"

"Stephen, or Ste as we know him. You met him I think. He works at the Physical Therapy Center. Big Irish guy with bright red hair."

Justin's face paled at that, and it took everything I had not to laugh. Michelle had mentioned how Ste may or may not have intimidated Justin, but I hadn't expected such a reaction. It was as if Justin had seen a ghost. To his credit, he recovered rather quickly. "Um, yeah, I have met him. He seems…nice."

"He's rather protective," I teased, watching his eyes widen further. I was tormenting the poor guy but I couldn't help myself. It was just too funny. After a moment, I gave in and let the man in front of my off the hook. "He's a sweetheart though. A big teddy bear, really. They are good for each other."

Justin just nodded, his hands unconsciously running through his hair. "How about you?"

"What about me?" I asked, unsure of what he meant as I sipped at my coffee.

"Are you seeing anyone?"

I nearly choked on my drink, staring at him with wide eyes. Did he really ask that? Where did he get off asking me something like that?

As if realizing his question, he raised his hands in surrender. "I don't mean to pry. It's just a question. You deserve to be happy."

"I _am_ happy, thank you very much," I snapped before I could stop myself. Immediately I regretted the words. If I was going to have to sit here, I might as well try and be civil. "Sorry. Just…didn't expect that question."

"No worries," he insisted, trying to assure me that nothing was meant by the comment.

"And no, not really," I answered, not missing the questioning look.

"Not really?"

"That's what I said." I said, feeling the frustration rising once more. I would be civil, but I was not discussing my love life with my ex. This was stupid.

"Gail would call you out on that."

Now I was interested. "Gail?" I questioned, already knowing his answer.

"Uh," he seemed genuinely uncomfortable for the first time since we sat down at the table, as if the words coming out before he realized he had said them. Good. Maybe he can understand how I've felt for the entire conversation. "A coworker."

"You two dating?" I asked, once again surprised by my lack of reaction. The thought would have terrified me a few months ago, but now…I was just curious.

"Not officially," he admitted, watching me carefully. "Just a few casual dates here and there."

I nodded, taking another sip of my coffee.

"Does that bother you?" he asked, unable to gage my reaction like he used to.

"Honestly? No, it doesn't." I shrugged. "I think it is good that you found someone." Which was the truth, surprisingly. I didn't know when I had become okay with the idea of Justin dating anyone else, but sitting there in front of him I knew that it didn't hurt to think of him with someone else. Remembering his comment from earlier, I tilted my head. "What did you mean she would have called me out?"

"She would have said 'not really' was a cop out," he chuckled.

I snorted. Damn. I already liked the girl. She sounded similar to Michelle.

"I'm not in a relationship. I just don't know what I have," I answered quietly. It was the truth. I knew there was attraction between me and John, but I didn't know when (or if) we'd ever capitalize on it.

"I'm sure it will work out," Justin soothed, noticing my thoughts turning inwards. I stared at him for a moment before the overwhelming desire to laugh struck me. I tried to suppress it, but I was eventually shaking with the laughter that swept over my form. Justin seemed confused.

"What's so funny?"

My hand shot to gesture to the two of us. "This whole situation. Here we are, exes, giving relationship advice to one another." I continued to laugh, only laughing harder when Justin's face broke into a smile and he joined in.

"Yeah, it is pretty funny," he agreed, gripping his side as he calmed down. "Who would have ever seen this coming?"

"No one," I supplied, which only sent another laughing spell over the two of us.

Once we had calmed down, Justin's face turned serious once more, though his smile was still in place.

"You are okay, right E?"

I regarded him for a long moment before nodding. "I am. And you?"

"Yeah, I am."

I smiled at him, probably the first full smile I had given throughout the entire conversation. It was weird. The whole situation was weird. But I was okay. I realized I needed this. I needed the closure, if only for my sanity.

"E?"

I looked up again, realizing I had zoned out. His face was suddenly saddened, and I already knew what he'd say, but I remained silent, knowing he needed to say what was on his mind.

"I am truly sorry. For everything."

I only smiled again. "I know. And it's okay. I promise."

My acceptance of his apology had a stronger effect than I thought it would, but I couldn't help but feel the weight lift off of my shoulders as his face relaxed. He glanced at the clock on the wall, sighing.

"It's getting late. Want me to drive you home?"

"No, I'm good. I can walk." I stood, draining the last of my coffee as I gathered my belongings. I still had twenty minutes until Michelle sent out the search parties. Plenty of time for me to walk home.

Justin nodded, standing and leaving the money on the table as he followed me out. At the door, he turned towards me.

"I'm glad everything's going well," he said with a smile. "It was good to see you E."

"Yeah," I replied after a moment, smiling up at him and meeting his eyes. "It was good to see you too. Good luck with the gym."

"Good luck with your knee," he through in, before pulling me in for a quick hug. I hugged back, sighing. I knew it was only a hug for friendship, a hug meant for sealing old wounds, and I was okay with that. I was okay with letting this pain go. I was okay with moving on.

Without another word, he released me and started towards his car, throwing a look over his shoulder and waving. I nodded in response before turning towards home, my head mulling over all that happened and what it meant for me.

I have had my closure with Justin. Now I could move on, towards a new life and a new relationship. A relationship with John.

**Ah, so I know this is a shorter chapter, but I really couldn't add anything else without it being filler material, and really, this is where it needed to stop to set up for the next chapter. Big stuff happening, this next one.**

**I can feel this story coming to an end. I'm thinking, oh, three or four more chapters, give or take a few. I can't say for sure. But it shouldn't be too much longer. Kind of sad for me. This was the very first story I posted on Fanfiction, and it's going to be sad to finish. **

**Anyways, enough of my rant haha. The story continues!**

**Until next time, dear readers.**

**Much love, **

**Meg**


	18. Chapter 18

**I want to thank everyone who reviewed on the last chapter. This is going to be a big chapter, so yay! Excitement! Also, I see one more chapter for this story after this (Oh my goodness, my first fanfiction story is almost over! I'm kind of sad.) so we are almost there folks!**

**I want to apologize for the delay. I've had a rough couple of weeks. It's exam time for one, and then I've had to have surgery. I once again tore my meniscus, ladies and gentlemen. They thought I had torn my ACL once more, and I seriously panicked about that. But they did a knee scope yesterday and my patella graft is intact, so I will nothave to have another ACL reconstruction! Prayers work, people. I still have a 3-4 week recovery ahead of me from the meniscus, which they took a little over 50% of because they couldn't repair it, and they might have to do more to give me that padding back, but at least it is not my ACL again. Anyways, enough of my small pity party. On with the update!**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but Evan and the plot.**

Chapter 18

(John's POV)

I heaved a tired sigh as I typed out the final report, my eyes scanning the screen of my computer to check for any errors. When I was sure there were none, I saved the document and closed the file, turning to my desk to look at the folder lying on top. I had pulled it out this morning and had checked everything about ten times, making sure all of the requirements were taken care of before finally setting it aside.

I could see Evangeline's name written in my handwriting on the tab, and a smile spread across my face.

She didn't know it, but today would be her last day here. After 8 months, she was going to be cleared early, having shown so much progress.

She had even practiced a little with Michelle, the blonde letting me know that it went well and the knee hadn't bothered her. Evangeline was an exceptional case, one of the best recoveries I could remember in a long time, based solely on that fact that her work ethic was so strong.

I was entranced by her, from the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed to the teasing that never ended, though honestly I wished it never would. It was easy to be around her, and a part of me was sad to see her go, though I hoped it would be a new beginning for us.

I had kept to my word. I hadn't made any advances since that night we kissed. But it was getting increasingly more difficult to stay away from her. After so long, a part of me feared she would no longer be willing to try, but I had already gotten my hopes up.

A knock on the door drew my attention, and I smiled at the redhead that stood just in the doorframe.

"Coming in a little late, huh?"

That earned me an eye-roll from the Irish man, his voice mumbling something about "jerks" and "time restraints". He sat in the chair in front of my desk, his eyes falling to the folder for Evangeline.

"She's getting cleared today?" he asked, curiosity lifting his tone.

"Yep," I responded, leaning back in my own chair. "She's medically ready. I think she's been mentally ready to return to the court for a while now, but her body just had to catch up." I chuckled at the thought of her impatience. Evangeline really was adamant about getting back in the sand.

Ste chuckled with me, his thoughts going in the same direction. "She'll be thrilled. So when are you going to make a move?"

I shook my head at the man in front of me, glaring at the smirk that slid across his features. "Is my dating life all you think about?"

"No. It just passes the time," Ste said with a laugh.

"And to answer your question, I don't know when. I need to talk to Evan about it first." I looked over the folder once more, checking the information before putting it away.

"Have you talked to her any since the last session?" he asked, and as I looked up I got the sinking suspicion that he knew something I didn't.

"No, why?"

"It's not my place to tell you," was the cryptic reply, a raised eyebrow thrown in my direction to accompany the smirk.

"Ste," I warned, pinning him with a stare.

"It's nothing major," he assured, grin widening a fraction, "just Evan ran into some interesting company last night. She can tell you."

I sighed, knowing I would get nothing else from the man. Already my brain was working to figure out what he meant. Interesting company? Why would he phrase it like that?

"Do you know who it is?" I asked, watching as a slight sneer crossed his features.

"Yeah, I know who it is."

The words were said slightly harsher than usual, and it dawned on me just who the man meant. Justin. Ste still held a little hostility towards the man from when he had surprised Evangeline and Michelle at an earlier workout, if his voice indicated anything.

"She saw Justin?" I questioned, already knowing the answer but feeling the need to verify it.

"She can tell you," was all Ste responded. It made me nervous. I knew a little of their past, enough to know they were serious and that Evangeline was still hurt by the whole thing. I can't imagine how she dealt with him, or what all went down. The protective side of me surged forward, thinking of how she had reacted to him earlier on.

"She's waiting downstairs by the way. Sent me up here to get you." The man's words grabbed my attention and I hastily stood.

"You're just now telling me?" I accused, moving to walk past him. He let me sit up here while she waited? What if she was still upset about everything? I cursed under my breath as I practically ran for the door.

"You didn't ask!" he hollered at me as I passed, laughing slightly at my urgency as I made my way to the main room.

xxx

(Evan's POV)

I drank deeply from my water bottle as I watched John out of the corner of my eye. He was pushing the equipment around, moving things back into place since we were officially finished. Though the view was definitely welcome (I mean come on, a man showing his strength was almost always sexy), it wasn't the reason I was watching him.

John had been acting weird the entire work out today. He was always encouraging, but today he was a little quieter. He also seemed to be watching me a little closer than usual, as if waiting for something to happen. Ever since he had come down the stairs to meet me, he had been acting like this. It was starting to weird me out.

Now, for instance, he had a small frown on his features, chewing his bottom lip in thought. What was bothering him? No matter how many times I asked, he denied anything being on his mind, but it was obvious. You didn't spend eight months with someone practically every day and not pick up on their habits. Biting his lip was one of his go-to gestures for thinking.

I finally caught his eye, and like always the smile crossed his features. Even though he smiled, it didn't reach his eyes.

Something was wrong.

"Hey John?" I called, waiting for him to come over before speaking further. "Think I can talk to you for a minute?" I needed to talk to him anyways, to tell him about not only what happened with Justin last night, but the past. I told him I'd tell him about what happened when I was ready, and now that I felt I had closure, I felt I could tell him about it and show him that I really had moved on. And while I told him, maybe I could find out what was bothering him today.

He let out a small breath, as if preparing himself, and then nodded. "Yeah, let me finish cleaning up. Why don't you go on up to the office, and I'll meet you there?"

I nodded, doing my best to smile even though I was mentally still worried about what was going on in his head. Turning on my heel, I headed towards the stairs, doing my best to take them normally instead of two at a time like I wanted.

It took John a few minutes to finally join me in the office, and by the time he had made it up, I had gone over what I was going to say multiple times. I didn't think I was going to be nervous, but watching John walk into the room and shut the door behind him, the butterflies started. I shifted in my seat on the corner of his desk as he came to sit on the arm of one of the chairs in front of his desk. He smiled up at me, the smile not totally convincing, and cleared his throat.

"So what's up?"

I watched him for a second, taking a breath. "I wanted to talk to you about who I ran into yesterday."

He stayed silent, and I took it as my cue to continue. "I was out running, and I ran into Justin."

He didn't look surprised, watching me as if a million different thoughts were racing through his mind. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but kept quiet. I kept talking, suddenly finding my fingernails to be extremely interesting. "We talked, and though it was completely awkward at first, I was glad I got to talk with him. He seems to be doing well, and I felt a lot better when I left." John seemed to visibly relax at my tone, a breath escaping him as I met his eyes. He smiled, this time a real smile.

"I'm glad it went well," he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Honestly, I was worried it would have been a repeat of last time." Upon seeing my confusion, he smiled sheepishly. "Ste may have hinted to me what happened last night."

So that was what he was worried about. He was worried about me and how I dealt with Justin. Ste told him I ran into Justin.

I scrunched my nose as I shook my head. "I told him I needed to tell you first. That man can't keep a secret."

John laughed, shaking his head along with me. "Never."

"You were worried about me?" I asked, watching as he nodded. "So that's why you've been acting weird."

John furrowed his brows, scoffing at my comment. "I have not been acting weird."

I pinned him with a pointed look and rolled my eyes. "Oh please, you've been pouting all day."

He stuck his tongue out at me, just making me laugh. Eventually he joined in.

I smiled at the relaxed air between us, before my thoughts turned more serious. Looking away, I voiced the question that had been on my mind. "I never told you about what happened between us, did I?"

John's smile faltered, a small shake of his head the only answer he gave.

For a moment, I almost chickened out. This was a new relationship, one that had nothing to do with Justin or my past. But John had told me if I wanted to talk to him about it, I could do it. And a part of me really wanted to tell him. John deserved to know what happened, especially after seeing me react so badly to Justin the first time we met after the breakup.

As if sensing my hesitation, John cleared his throat. "Evangeline, I don't expect you to tell me everything. If you-"

"No, it's fine," I interrupted, "I think you deserve to know what happened."

"Evan…" he spoke softly, moving from his seat to stand in front of me. His concern was written clearly on his face.

"John, please," I said, watching him as his resolve to stop me broke. I smiled up at him, steeling my nerves and preparing what I was going to say. It was going to be short, sweet, and to the point. I was done with this. I just needed to prove to myself and to John that it wasn't going to hold me back any longer.

"We were engaged and he broke it off," I started, keeping my eyes on his as I spoke. I wanted to catch every emotion that passed through those ocean blues. "And for a long time, that was all I could think about. I just kept trying to find a way to piece my life back together. I've always been a fixer, and that's how I got hurt. I was fixing my serve when I messed up my knee. And when I couldn't fix that relationship, I didn't know what I was going to do." I paused, taking a breath.

"And then I stopped thinking about it and started thinking about you."

John smiled softly, his eyes flashing a brilliant blue as he looked back at me. I smiled back, continuing. "I told you I would tell you when I was sure I had moved on from Justin, and I am standing here, telling you that I am one thousand percent sure that I no longer hold that emotion for him. I do, however, hold those feelings for you." I scooted off of the desk to stand straighter, closing some of the distance between us as he did the same.

"That's good to hear," he said in a low tone as he reached around me to grab a folder lying on the wooden desk behind me. As his other arm wrapped around my waist, he held the folder up in front of me to where I could read the label. As I made out my name written on the tab, I looked up with curious eyes.

"What's that?"

"This," he said, waving the folder for emphasis, "is your patient record." He opened it, letting go of my waist to pull out a piece of paper from the top. Though my body immediately missed the contact, I was too interested in what he was showing me to protest. "And this is your release form."

My eyes widened, darting from the paper to John's face rapidly as I took the paper from him and quickly scanned the page. He wasn't joking. The paper said I was officially cleared. "This is real?"

A chuckled erupted from the man standing less than a foot away from me. "Yes. I was going to tell you today after your session. You are officially ready to play again, and you are no longer my patient."

The laugh only intensified as I lunged at him, circling my arms around his neck and burying my face into his skin. He clutched at my back, trying to steady us from the force I created by throwing myself at him, and he sighed lightly. "Am I really that horrible of a physical therapist that you are ready to leave my care?" he teased, nuzzling my hair with his nose.

I pulled back, a look of mock-contemplation on my features as I hummed in thought. "No," I answered softly, before an idea struck me. I gently pulled him down to meet my lips, pulling away before he could deepen the kiss. "But I will admit I like your kisses more than your exercises, especially that freaking square of death."

He smiled, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as I pulled me close. "I thought you might say that."

"So now that I'm no longer your patient, are you still offering that relationship?" I asked teasingly. He raised an eyebrow at me.

"What do you think?" he questioned, his hands finding the small of my back.

"I think you could start by taking me to dinner," I mused, laughing when he snorted.

"I have a better idea at the moment," he said as he suddenly picked me up to sit me on the desk. I yelped in surprise as I blushed at the bold move, swatting at his chest when he pulled away to peer at me in amusement.

He laughed at my response before closing the distance between us once more. This time I didn't pull away, allowing him to deepen the kiss when his tongue ran the length of my bottom lip. I was lost in the sensation of his kiss, and at the moment I couldn't have cared less if I ever found my way out of his embrace.

It was surreal. I was free to play volleyball again. Free from the pain of my break up with Justin. Free to move on into a relationship with John.

A girl could get use to this kind of freedom.

**I hope no one finds the last office scene rushed. I struggled with it honestly. I hope it sounds alright, and I hope you all enjoyed this update. One chapter left!**

**Much love, **

**Meg**


	19. Chapter 19

**I cannot believe it. We have reached the last chapter, readers. My first ever fanfiction has been completed! **

**I can't thank everyone enough for adding this story to their favorites, for reading and reviewing, adding me or my story to your alerts. I feel very loved and very blessed that people enjoyed this story, especially when I know a first story for any author can be…*cough*…a little rough around the edges, as I am sure this one was at times. Still, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH! You make my day! :)  
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**For those who are wondering if I will write another wrestling story, I honestly do not know. I'd like to, but right now I have been so out of touch with the current WWE and the storylines and talent, I don't even know where to start or if I could even give it the attention it deserves. But, I'm willing to keep my mind open to the idea. I don't want anyone to think I'm trying to steal ideas, but if anyone has an idea or a certain spark of creativity that they think they'd want me to try and write, feel free to message me on here. I'm all ears to any inspiration at the moment, even if it's a shorter story or maybe even a one shot. Who knows? I'd be thankful for anyone who would want to give me some inspiration to write another wrestling fic, and that is not exclusive to John Cena, though he is my favorite (Can you blame me? Look at him.).**

**Regretably, this chapter will probably be a little shorter. I really suck at endings apparently, if only because part of me wants to wrap it up in a nice little bow. Hopefully, it lives up to the rest of the chapters.**

**Anyways, I hope you all enjoy the last chapter of A Line in the Sand. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own diddly squat, except Evan and the plot.**

(Evan's POV)

The speed was frigidity. Even in the blaring sun, I could see her trembling slightly. She was nervous. As she should be. After all, Michelle and I was about to serve for match point. If we got this last point, we won the tournament, and they lost. There was a lot at stake, and Michelle had to nail this one.

The tall kept shaking her head, as if asking for the inevitable to hold off, to give them a chance to come back. They were only two points down. It was possible for them to make a comeback. That is, if they weren't playing us.

Really, I wasn't meaning to sound arrogant. They were a good team. We just had something to prove.

It was my first tournament back in action, having waited three months for the sport to start up again. The brace that adorned my knee was still shiny with its newness, though the sand was making quick work of correcting that, scuffing the black up nicely. I didn't mind. It looked tough with the scratches. It looked as tough as I felt.

I can't describe how great it felt to be standing on that court. The sand between my toes, the sun on my skin, even the freaking brace tan I would have because of the sun was worth it. It was worth every moment I spent working out to get here. It was worth every pain and every backtracking step and every stumble, because in the end, I was here. I had beaten it. In the words of Ste, I had "made it my bitch", and though it was crude, it was true.

Too bad some people didn't see it that way. I had gotten quite a few looks when we arrived at the courts, whispered words of doubt. _Can she really be back with that injury? Is she seriously going to play with that brace? She can't possibly be as good as she was before._ I acted like I couldn't hear them, and Michelle stood by me, glaring at anyone who stared too long. I won't lie, it sucked to hear that, to be pushed aside so easily, but it only fueled the fire that burned in me.

This other team was just unlucky in having to face us. It was nothing personal. I had just come too far to lose now. I had to prove that my knee wasn't going to hold me back.

With a final decision, I flashed the position of the speed to Michelle, knowing she would see it without turning around. She served the ball, her precision showing as it went exactly where I had requested, and the volley was on. It was a long point. Back and forth, back and forth.

I saw the opening at the same time Michelle did. The back right corner was open, the speed playing too far up to cover it properly. Michelle's pass was spot on, and in a swift, practiced movement I set her up, placing the ball at the top of her reach. She hit the ball hard and deep, and the yells of triumph left our throats before the ball even hit the sand. Amongst cheers and flashes of cameras, she tackled me to the sand in excitement, both of us laughing loudly in delight.

We had done it. We won. This tournament didn't lead to a championship. We were still in the pre-season. But it meant we were back, and that meant more than any trophy could have at the moment. A giant weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and I couldn't help the grin that split my face.

We finally pulled ourselves up off the ground and walked to the net, shaking hands with the other team. They both congratulated us, smiling widely as we exchanged well wishes and encouraging words with hugs.

As they turned away, my eyes scanned the crowd, another smile gracing my features as I found who I was looking for.

John stood near the fence, hooting and hollering in excitement as he and Ste clapped. His smile grew as he met my eyes, and I felt my heart jump in my chest. I'd never get use to his smile.

We had to pose for pictures, newspapers and magazines and websites documenting the event. We both answered questions for twenty minutes after the game before declaring we had to go, tired and ready to get cleaned up. By then, most of the crowd had dispersed, leaving just a few dedicated fans and the families of different teams. John and Ste waited patiently by the gate, cheering again as we neared.

"We are the champions, my friends!" John and Ste sang, both playing air guitars as we laughed. "And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end!" Though we enjoyed the cover of Queens' famous song, we doubted the others around us cared for it.

"Alright, alright, knock it off," Michelle laughed, swatting at the two of them, earning yelps of protest. Ste promptly picked her up, throwing her over her shoulder as she screamed and laughed.

"Ste, put me down!"

"That's what you get for interrupting the concert," he laughed, holding her legs down as she started to kick.

"If you don't put me down, so help me…" she trailed off, laughing too hard to finish the threat.

"Feisty," Ste commented, winking at me and John, "I like it."

"E! Help me out here," she wailed, looking back over the man's shoulder with pleading eyes.

"Sorry, Michelle," I answered with a shrug. "He's too tall for me to take down."

"But you didn't even try!"

"And now she never will!" Ste interrupted, laughing wildly as he moved away.

The blonde slung over his shoulder groaned in defeat, hitting him on the back when he took off to the sand, promptly dumping her there, albeit gently. I watched as she tripped him, pulling him down to land in the sand next to her as they both cackled.

"They are so cute," I said with a smile, looking up at John over my shoulder.

John hummed his agreement, wrapping his hands around my waist from behind. "Think she knows about the ring?" he asked, laying his head on top of mine.

"Not a clue," I answered, only grinning wider at the thought. Ste had already told us he planned on proposing, though he didn't know the exact day he would ask yet. He had just bought the ring, and was working up the courage to pop the question. He didn't have to worry, though. I already knew Michelle would say yes.

"You looked great out there," John muttered, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. I turned in his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck and pressing a quick kiss to his lips.

"Thank you."

"Your knee still feeling okay?" he asked, a serious edge creeping into his voice. I could see the physical therapist side of him emerging, and I rolled my eyes. He worried too much.

"I feel fine."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"You were favoring it," he insisted.

"Of course I was, this brace makes my leg heavier." It was a valid point, though I knew he wouldn't get the joke.

"Evan," he warned playfully, though the concern was clear in his eyes. He was trying so hard not to say anything, but he was failing at not being worried fr me. I understood why. I was more prone to re-tear my ACL, to re-injure the knee with a torn meniscus, and he didn't want me to push it.

I smiled up at him, shaking my head. "I promise. I'm okay. No pain, no shifting. It feels strong as an ox."

He rolled his own eyes, the blue irises pointed skyward before returning to look back at me, a dimpled smile accompanying the gesture. "Okay. Just checking."

"And I love you for it," I assured him, kissing him once more, this time holding it longer than a simple peck. It wasn't deep, but it didn't lack any emotion, and I could feel the love from him in the small touches on my back. I looked up at him when I pulled away, smiling as I did so. The sun back-lit him, his height shading my eyes from the sun so I could look up at him without squinting. Even in the afternoon sunlight, I could clearly count the shades of blue in his eyes, all alive with emotion. "I do, you know that right? Even when you are worrying over me, I love you."

"I love you too, Evangeline," he said softly, silencing me with another kiss.

I still couldn't believe I was this lucky. To be healthy, to be surrounded by friends, and to be loved…it was all too good to be true. But it was true, and I'd fight to keep it. I was always a fighter, and when I had this in front of me, there was no way I would let this go.

"Lovebirds! Come on! You're wasting daylight!"

John laughed at Ste's impatience as he broke for air. I looked over to see the Irishman holding Michelle's hand, starting to pull her in the directions of the cars. Michelle added her own statement, telling us to hurry, before following Ste happily.

"Let's go," I said softly, pulling away from John's arms and walking towards the cars.

A low whistle met my ears and I turned around, meeting John's gaze with a raised eyebrow. He crossed his arms, making a show of tilting his head to the side and looking me up and down.

"Have I told you how absolutely sexy you look in that uniform?"

I laughed, shaking my head as I turned back to the cars. Like I could help the fact that my uniform was a bikini. "Come on John," I said with a chuckle, not giving in to the temptation to tease him back.

"Good game, Evangeline," he said suddenly, and before I could respond he promptly smacked me on the butt. I jumped, my mouth falling in shock as I froze, watching him walk ahead of me with a cheeky grin.

"John!" I gasped, a blush rising to my face.

He turned to me, wiggling his eyebrows as he walked backwards. "I was a football player for years, babe. Hard habit to break," he said with a shrug, grinning mischievously as he turned back to the car. He threw another look over his shoulder. "Plus, I couldn't help myself when it was the perfect opportunity."

I scoffed at him, shaking my head. "Oh, you better run!"

He took off at the same time as I did, laughing hysterically and eventually pulling my own laughter out of me, even as I chased him to the car. He stopped and turned to intercept my charge, laughing harder when I jumped on his back. He carried me the rest of the way to the car, the sound of Ste and Michelle playfully bickering over where we should eat tonight meeting my ears as I kissed John's cheek, wondering how my life could get any more perfect.

**And that is it, ladies and gentlemen! The end of my story is officially complete. Thank you again to all of the support. I couldn't have finished this without y'all! :)  
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**Much love,**

**Meg**


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